Heart Log
by Kinjiru
Summary: To the world they were the Surgeon of Death and his shadowy crew: thieves, murderers, pirates; the scum of the world. But not all those who lurk in the shadows have dark things to hide - not all the time anyway. Vignettes and flash fiction about the Heart Pirates with many a fan theory, headcanon and spoiler peeking out from around the edges.
1. Midnight Snack

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece. All characters and concepts are the intellectual property of Eiichiro Oda. I am but a simple fan spinning tales about Trafalgar Law and the Heart Pirates crew.

* * *

_Characters: Trafalgar Law, Heart Pirates Crew_

**I**

Trafalgar Law awoke in the middle of the night with a terrible craving for food. That in itself was unusual as the Surgeon of Death was more likely to skip meals than to want them. However, two skipped meals and a breakfast consisting mostly of coffee drew the line for his stomach. It wanted food and it wanted it now: the 200 million beli bounty head had absolutely no say in the matter.

Begrudgingly, Law dragged himself out of bed and trudged to his door. It took a few open-handed slapping of his palms against steel walls before he found the handle, then he bowed his head against it, mustering as much strength as his half-asleep state allow. He slid his door open soon after, only to hiss and wrinkle his nose at the air that flooded in. It was warm and musty, smelling faintly of grease and sweat: not entirely uncommon in their submarine but unpleasant when one was long unexposed to it. A few seconds out in the hall and his discomfort faded, taking with it the last shreds of his lethargy. Once more, his stomach commanded his full attention; Law absently scratched his midsection as he marched to the galley.

The click of the light switch resounded loudly in the room as lights flickered to illuminate empty countertops. The hungry man felt an uncharacteristic pout pull at his features: the meal usually left out for him had been kept away for the night. Every bit of satiating food in the galley was now stuck somewhere inside the Heart Pirates' fridge. He sighed at the thought of cold food, but it wasn't the time to be picky.

And so, Law ventured a look. A wall of closely packed glass jars and bottles met his eyes, their contents coloring it in a rainbow of hues. The lowest compartment, crammed with various leafy vegetables, provided a solid green base. Right above it were jars of sweetened fruit preserves; the little the pirate could see of them were many shades of reds, purples and oranges. Stacked in the next layer were bottles of alcoholic beverages, water and what he assumed was milk, with the first and second topped by a very thin layer of the third. Amber and green-tinted bottles were flanked on both sides by clear ones; Law guessed one or the other was their water supply. The door was equally as filled, with eggs, medicine and even more bottles precariously balanced in its compartments.

The captain of the ship stared for a good minute at the whole thing, trying to decide which item, if taken out, would not send the whole food supply falling on top of him. He closed it soon after, and his stomach grumbled in protest.

Rolling his eyes, the young man opted for the next best thing. He activated his devil fruit ability and stole all of his sleeping crewmates from their beds, transported them into the kitchen. The resulting thud of half a dozen bodies at his feet would have normally put a smile on the supernova's lips, but it wasn't the case that night.

"Crew," Law called amid groans of pain and indignant cries of untangling bodies. The group fell silent and looked to him, on the alert for his next order. "Food."

The group of young men stared oddly at him in the silence that followed. Whether they were wondering if they were still asleep or deciding if their captain was exercising some form of ungodly 3 A.M. humor, the brunet couldn't find it in himself to care. He tapped his foot impatiently and regarded them with a scowl.

"You heard the captain, guys," the cook ventured. "Time for breakfast."

With small, confused grunts of agreement, as if the clockwork in their heads were just barely starting to run, the crew scrambled to their feet and scattered to take care of preparations. Law stepped out of their way and leaned against a wall, watching the group with no small measure of curiosity. The cook had started giving orders to his crewmates, enjoying this unexpected opportunity to command them. Some he asked to retrieve meat in the freezer and vegetables in the pantry; others he told to prepare kitchenware; and a pair he sent to set the table. Meanwhile, the man himself inspected the contents of the refrigerator.

The supernova cast him a sideways glance, wondering how he planned to get anything out of the giant ice box. The cook took a step closer to the fridge and signaled for a crewmate to stand by him. With casual confidence, he reached inside and started pulling items one after another. One hand freed what he needed from its niche and the other adjusted whatever had been displaced. The foodstuff were all passed on to the person behind him, who in turn, passed them to the people at the counters. All the while, the cook gave instructions on whether the items were to be washed, peeled, sliced up or have whatever other food-preparation process done to them.

Law raised a brow, intrigued by their system: no help was required from his part. With a shrug, he left the room and settled in the now-prepared dining table. He had not waited for very long when a pot of black coffee was brought out and poured into each of the Heart Pirates' mugs. Eggs and baskets of bread came not soon after. By then, some of the men had settled into their usual places around the table, chatting noisily. Various other light meals were brought in, but not one of the crew made any motion to touch the food.

Not until he started eating, Law mused absently.

Just as the last of the early breakfast was taken to the table, the crew's resident kung fu expert peeked into the room. The smell of food had the polar bear investigating from his watch post.

"Care to join us, Bepo?" the captain asked as he reached for the closest viand before him.

"What's everyone doing up?" the addressed replied as he stepped inside.

"Cooking for captain," Shachi bragged with a grin, already engaging in a tug-of-war for the plate of bacon.

"When he called us out," Penguin added as he inspected the contents of his sandwich.

"And me?"

"Well, you don't have opposable thumbs."

"And you were on watch, weren't you?"

"Sorry…"

Law shook his head and pointed to an empty seat with his fork. With the same utensil, he scooped up his first bite of a very early breakfast. The Heart Pirates exchanged smiles and followed suit.

* * *

_A/N: I thought I'd start this little series off with something lighthearted. Hopefully, it also sets my general perspective on the workings of the Heart Pirates, with the line between captain and crew clearly defined. I dunno; I just get this impression Law isn't as close to his crewmates as certain other captains, like Luffy or Shanks and maybe even Kid._

_EDIT: [2-13-13] Version 2 finished_


	2. Shopping Duty

_Characters: Penguin, Heart Pirates Crew, Trafalgar Law_

**II**

"Okay, is that everything?" Penguin asked for the umpteenth time that morning, waving the Heart Pirates' shopping list in the air.

The Heart Pirates crew gathered in the kitchen looked to one another, as if to see if anyone was about to speak up, before responding all at once. Half of them repeated their earlier requests, checking if he had not forgotten to list them down. The other half suggested a new set of decidedly unnecessary items, which earned them a scolding from the treasurer. Good-natured laughter broke out from the second group as they teased their manager of finance for dashing their hopes, completely ignoring Penguin.

"For the last time, guys..."

"Well, if you're not gonna buy them, why're you asking?" Shachi shot at him, leaning an arm against his shoulder and grinning.

Penguin threw a careless kick his way in response, and it was one his friend easily dodged and laughed over. The former rolled his eyes and feigned throwing the shopping list in the air in his exasperation, inspiring another chorus of laughter from his crew mates. He smirked and shook his head at their high spirits.

Shopping duty was not a job any of them enjoyed. The unfortunate person assigned the job was stuck with it for most of the first days they were docked at any island, leaving him very little time for anything else. In this case, that person was Penguin, and the crew was enjoying rubbing it in his face.

Or at least it started that way. Like any conspiracy they brewed amongst themselves, it didn't take long before the fun being poked at him was redirected to another; the center of attention shifted multiple times until nearly everyone had been teased and laughed at. He swore they would make for horrible conspirators.

Penguin took his list and left them in their antics, a chorus of "_bye"_s and "_see 'ya"_s and last minute jesting following him. If nothing else, he was at least going to start on his chore much amused. He was almost at the submarine's entrance when a voice called out to him.

"Oi, Penguin," it went. "You on shopping duty today?"

The man stopped and turned around, recognizing the voice to be his captain's. The latter approached him in a sluggish pace, squinting at the bright light streaming in through the entrance and scratching the back of his neck. Coupled with the rumpled state of his clothes and his bed hair, the Heart Pirates captain was the portrait of a man who had just woken up.

"Yes, captain."

Trafalgar Law stopped in front his subordinate and held out a folded scrap of paper to him, yawning as he did. "Can you get these while you're at it?" he said as Penguin took the sheet from him.

"Sure thing."

Law nodded and turned back, presumably to head for the galley or back to his room, waving him off. Penguin pocketed the new list and made a mental note of his captain's order.

The rest of his day was a jumble of marketplace hustle and bustle. He haggled with stubborn store owners for discounts, flirting with the younger female ones in an attempt the do same, but neither helped bring down the prices of his purchases. Many times, he found himself caught up in the market busybodies' gossiping – although most of them were small talk – but a few rare gems popped up every now and then. These he noted to report to the Heart Pirates later. All the while, he answered an endless amount of questions about his attire, hat and crew while dodging inquiries about his captain in between.

By mid afternoon, he was finished with the crew's list; Penguin gave himself a pat on the back for his record time. At the rate he was going, he was going finish Law's (presumably short) list before evening: he would be able to get around that evening like everyone else.

Leaning against his accumulated cart of supplies for a short break, he whipped out his captain's shopping list to confirm his assumptions. As he unfolded it, he wondered which one of the town's book stores and medical supply shops would have what the doctor was in short supply of. A page of unintelligible scrawls and demented looking scribbles met his eyes.

Penguin felt his jaw hang loose and his eyes grow wide, mind drawing to a blank. The world fell apart around him.

* * *

_A/N: I actually posted this on dA before here, and a good friend of mine drew a comic version of it. If anyone's interested, I've provided a link on my profile._

_EDIT: [2-25-13] Version 2 finished_


	3. Smoke

_Characters: Shachi, Heart Pirates Crew, Trafalgar Law_

**III**

Smoke.

His brain had hardly processed the stimulus and already every single alarm in Shachi's body had already been set off. The moment his limbs responded to his panic, he bolted for the source.

The Heart Pirate had been stuck in the submarine wash room since early that morning, practically swimming in unwashed laundry. Two weeks worth of clothes to mend, wash, dry and fold – a gargantuan task he gained from an abysmally lost game of poker a few nights before. He was usually decent at the game, but too much drinking and his captain, always the master at bluffing, joining in landed him his misfortune. However, if there were any damages to the submarine and all hands were immediately relieved from whatever duty they had; ship repair became top priority.

Shachi's search for the source brought him the main hall, where a thin haze of white smoke had already settled. The discovery lifted a good amount of weight from his shoulders. It wasn't any of the submarine's intricate machinery that had caught fire; they were safe from the immediate threat of sinking in the meantime. With purposeful strides, he joined the huddle of his crewmates gathered outside the smoking room's closed door.

"And here's Shachi," Penguin said as he stopped within their circles. Then to the man himself, he asked, "Guess you're not the one in there, huh?"

Shachi shook his head and replied, "Haven't been in there since breakfast."

The newest arrival walked up to the door and gave the knob a quick turn. It stopped short of a quarter turn and all the move earned him was a simultaneous and late _'It's locked.'_ warning from all those present.

"And you didn't even try to open it?" he hissed in annoyed embarrassment.

"You think we didn't try?" Ban replied, eyes smiling under the shadow of his bandanna.

Shachi gave the man a sarcastic tight-lipped smile and rolled his eyes, to which the latter shrugged in response.

"Let's break down this door," Penguin cut into the conversation before either party could throw in any more snarky comments.

All eyes went from the last speaker and then to the door. A silent consensus was made on the spot and all seven men present took up various places in front of their obstacle. At a given signal, the group threw their shoulders to the door, just one fleeting moment after it had actually clicked open. Eight exclamations of surprise rang out as seven men and a polar bear fell with a loud thud on the kitchen's flour-powdered floor.

A set of hurried footsteps approached the pile as they untangled themselves. Through the thinning fog of smoke, the Heart Pirates captain's batter-stained face peered worriedly down at them.

* * *

_A/N: Ah yes, I guess I need to do some explaining here. As asked by 10th Squad 13th Seat, I do see Law as the type to not be able to cook. In fact, in my mind, he's not very good at anything domestic in general. That's what his crew is for. I guess that doesn't stop him from trying from time to time._

_Let's also conveniently ignore the fact that doors are more effectively forced open by kicking on top of the lock mechanism, not by forcing one's shoulder on one._

_Ban here is the Heart Pirate wearing a bandanna in One Piece Chapter 580, page 4._

_EDIT: [3-1-13] Version 2 finished_


	4. Smile

_Characters: Trafalgar Law, Penguin_

**IV**

He did not know this man. Nor did he care for his reasons.

All he knew was that the stranger had the gall to confront him, pointing accusing fingers and spouting rubbish declarations his way. The tavern's dark and stuffy atmosphere, with its crowd of sweaty drunken men and prostitutes in their cheap perfume, was unpleasant enough without the large burly man hovering over him.

Trafalgar Law didn't know why the man wasn't dead at his feet yet. Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system or the particularly good mood he was in – he wasn't sure. He felt no inclination to draw his nodachi against him. In fact, he found himself being highly entertained by the way his aggressor's face and speech slurred after each successive drink they both downed.

For yet another time, the drunk pointed a large, dirty finger at the pirate captain. Bulging bloodshot eyes glared at him, accented to a near glow by his ruddy complexion, and the man paused, snarling and breathing at the same time like a rabid bull.

He must have said something vaguely important, Law assumed; he had not comprehended anything the other had said. Not wanting to put an end to his fun, he responded with a wide sarcastic smile.

The pirate captain's tankard was sent crashing into the wall soon after, splintering into pieces at impact and adding to the large collection of stains already there. The Heart Pirates captain's smile never faltered. Instead, he turned to the barkeeper and called for another drink. The large angry man responsible for the loss of his last one gave an inhuman roar. Grabbing the table between them with a single hand, he threw it to one side and quickly closed the gap between them. People scrambled away from them and a number of whores screamed in panic.

In the middle of the confusion, a gunshot rang out. Law's eyes grew wide.

Before him, his attacker stood in a rigid posture, hand outstretched towards him with an animalistic snarl contorting his features. A moment later, he fell to the ground with a loud thud. In his place, a tall man clad in a white boiler suit and a black hat concealing most of his features stood, pointing a still smoking gun at him. The weapon was quickly kept away and its owner pushed up the yellow visor of his headgear to look at the still smiling brunet with a worried eye.

"I think that's enough drinks for tonight, captain," the man suggested.

Law shrugged and stood up. He strode up to the bar counter and took the fresh drink the barkeep had hurriedly served when he rose. He downed it all before facing his crewmate.

"Yeah, I think so too."

* * *

_A/N: After which all the badass cool Law had exuded in the bar was flushed down the drain when he promptly decided the sidewalk was as good a place as any to rest his head. Penguin lugged his captain over his shoulder back to the submarine like any good first/second/third(?) mate in as straight a line as he could walk after all the drinks he himself had that night._

_EDIT: [3-3-13] Version 2 finished_


	5. Running Away

_Characters: Bepo, Trafalgar Law_

**V**

The ground was cold and hard beneath it. Small jolts of pain ran through the pads of its paws and the entirety of its tiny frame with each step it made; its vision blurred at every movement. The small creature pressed on nonetheless.

The bindings wound around its body restricted its movements but no matter how much it had tied, it could neither gnawed nor scratched them off. They did not stop it from walking, however, so it ignored the discomfort in favor of escape. Only its left hind leg was bound so tightly that it was forced to hobble its way through the dark, empty hall of its current prison.

A sudden drop in the flooring had it tumbling to the ground. The fresh wave of electric pain blacked out its senses for a moment and its bound up leg throbbed palpably. Numbness slowly set in, and in those long minutes, blurry visions of its Master's cruel face swam in and out of its mind. The image would be obscured by a small tunnel of darkness, and then, a flash of yellow and bright red.

Was that what happened? It wasn't sure.

All it knew was that this place was not its Master's residence. The sights and scents were unfamiliar: the halls were too dark and narrow; the rooms smelled like a hospital; there were many people who carried the scent of blood and gunpowder nearby. It didn't want to have anything to do with them.

It had just picked itself up from its fall when there came a panicked yelp from the direction of the room it had left. Clanging thuds of heavy footwear against the strange cold and polished floor echoed in the halls. Fear overcame the sluggish processing of thoughts in its mind as it realized that it had been found out. In a rush of adrenaline, it hobbled into the first open door it found. More footsteps had joined the first, slow and with purpose now.

The young animal scampered towards a corner of the small crowded room it found itself in, whimpering with each bump and jab its body met along the way. With a bit of struggling, it squeezed through a tangle of long rounded sticks. The same effort, however, knocked them over, and they crashed towards the half-opened door. The footsteps stopped, hushed muttering taking their place.

A single set of steps started up again; calm and lazy was its pace. A shiver ran down its spine as this one approached – its bloody scent was the strongest it had come across yet. Fur starting to stand on edge, it bared its fangs and growled.

A moment later, the silhouette of a tall thin man appeared at the door. His features were obscured by darkness save for his half-lidded gray eyes and they scanned about for the intimidated animal. Their locking onto it only inspired more apprehension from its part, but the eyes remained unfazed.

Languid like a cat, the silhouette knelt and reached out towards it. It growled at the approaching hand but the man did not even hesitate. A second later, it sank needle-like teeth into the gray-eyed attacker's flesh. A pained hiss escaped his lips. The gravity of the act sank into its consciousness not soon after. It had done the unthinkable, biting one of these men. It had been beaten and starved for less. To have actually hurt one of them–

Its death was inevitable.

Quickly, it released the hand in its mouth and backed off as far as it could into a corner, curling up into a ball as it hoped that the end would come quickly. There was an almost inaudible exhalation of what it could only guess was annoyance from the man. The sounds of the room's contents being shifted aside filled the short span of time between then and the moment something came in contact with its fur. It froze and waited for the hard blow that never came.

Instead, a soft voice whispered reassuring words to it. A hand nudged lightly into the spaces between its limbs and head until the man had its jaw in the palm of one hand. There was a soothing circular rubbing motion on one side of its face, and when that stopped, the man let go of his head. He proceeded to stoke its head and the back of its neck. It all calmed it somewhat.

The adrenaline rush from earlier faded and it was reminded of its exhaustion and dizziness. It slumped forward and was caught by the same hand it had bitten. The other hand joined it soon enough and lifted it off the cold ground.

This confused it even more, but a stronger feeling was close to overcoming it. That of relief, it realized as it drifted off to sleep.

+.+

Law smiled to himself as the little polar bear breathing finally evened out into that of slumber. He shifted his hold on it and regarded it fondly.

"Bepo," he mused aloud. "I'll call you Bepo."

* * *

_A/N: My take on how Law got Bepo. I'm not quite sure when I started fancying the idea that the Heart Pirates (minus their captain) were former slaves, but the idea appealed to me. I thought it made them more interesting than just your normal bunch of men out for glory/treasure. It was easy enough to work around. Hardly anything is known about them, they cover themselves up like they have something to hide and they look up to one person enough to follow him almost blindly._

_And then my delusions worked on filling the gaping holes of my theory and building walls around other possibilities. Until the manga explains their origins, which I kind of doubt will happen, my headcanon will stay._

_EDIT_

_After a bit of research, I found that the size I gave Bepo is highly improbably for a polar bear that could, presumably, live without its mother. Baby polar bears are weaned by 2 1/2 years old, by which time they could very well be over a hundred kilograms in weight. Even if I were to assume he survived regardless, and he was just, say six months old, he would still be a pretty big baby. (Probably around 20 to 40kgs). Then again, it's One Piece. Chopper's a tiny fifteen-year-old reindeer. For the sake of cuteness, I'll keep it this way._

_EDIT: [3-13-13] Version 2 finished_


	6. Panic

_Characters: Penguin, Shachi_

**VI**

"Penguin!"

The Heart Pirate looked up from his book to see his crewmate panting in exhaustion at the door. He hung onto the knob for support as he looked at him with wide, frantic eyes. Worry and concern struck the pirate and he rushed to the other man's aid. However, Shachi refused his help.

"Don't—don't worry about me. It's the captain. He— " He drew a deep intake of breath.

Penguin felt his heart lodge itself in his throat. Grabbing the panicked man by the shoulders, he pulled him up and trained his eyes into Shachi's; a pair of frightened eyes stared back into his own.

"What?! What is it? What happened to him?" The words tumbled out of his mouth one after the other. Shachi seemed to hesitate for a moment before, with trembling words, he answered.

"He... he..."

"Yes?"

"Captain—" He stopped again and bit by bit, his features contorted into an expression of glee. "He wants a mug of coffee."

The pirate could not have slammed him into the door any faster. A brief tirade of verbal abuse later, he left the still-guffawing man on the floor. He had coffee to brew.

* * *

_A/N: How do I explain this? I get the feeling they get really bored underwater sometimes. And... Penguin brews the best coffee in the ship. Yeah. We'll go with that._

_EDIT: [3-13-13] Version 2 finished_

_Not that there was much to edit in the first place. ^^;_


	7. Closed Doors

_Character(s): Trafalgar Law_

**VII**

"Do not enter."

The sentence felt like a joke on his lips. It was a horrible set of words to display in a building full of curious minds. The room it meant to hide would have stood a better chance at being left alone if the door had simply been left bare.

Long slender fingers ran across the sign, crossing over the words as if to erase them. Their owner smiled and let the same fingers trail down towards the door's polished handle. They lingered there for only a moment before the hand they belonged to casually drew out a ring of keys from Trafalgar Law's coat pocket.

The man's smile snapped into a smirk as he regarded the trinket. Funny how easy it was to bend people to one's will with a little bit of bribery and acting. For that night, the guard he 'borrowed' the key from had been convinced to leave the patrol to him for the night; drunk men cannot possibly assure the security of a facility after all. The young doctor chuckled at the memory, picking out the key he needed. As he fitted the right one into the lock, he pushed all thoughts of the passed out, simple man at the facility's main doors from his thoughts. Matters of greater importance were at hand. With one last wary look around him, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The square of light cast into the darkness within framed his tall, lean silhouette. If there had been anyone inside to see him, they would have witnessed how his gray eyes seemed to glow like beacons as he just stood there, allowing his vision to adjust. He closed the door behind him and stepped forward. The high pitched clicking of his shoes against tiled floors was a sharp contrast to the low rumbling of machinery that echoed throughout the room. Without the need to even look around, the foul stench of formalin, blood and rot revealed to the raven-haired youth some hint to the reason of secrecy.

Trafalgar Law closed his eyes and smiled as he inhaled the pungent odor. He had never felt so at home.

* * *

_A/N: The setting would be before Law was a pirate or when he was learning medicine. I like imagining him to have a nicer almost cute side only people who have known him for a long time know about, a pert side to strangers and this sadistic side with regards to his art/science._

_On another note, I really like writing these more introspective ramblings a lot. Especially the more sadistic kind. I hope it came out right and I'm not just fooling myself that I could actually get into the minds of people. XD_

_EDIT: [3-15-13] Version 2 finished_


	8. Watch Duty

_Character(s): Penguin_

**VIII**

It had been a long day. Every man and the single bear on the ship had finished the last of their nightly duties an hour before and had all gone to bed.

Penguin himself would have also been snug under his sheets by that time if it had not been his shift to stand watch. Alone, he sat by the kitchen counters, chin cupped in a propped up hand and half-lidded eyes staring at the silent kettle heating on the stove.

Watch duty was, in his opinion, one of the most boring duties in a ship, even more so in a submarine. The most dangerous things they could expect were underwater sea monsters, and those were few and far between. Other pirate crews with submersible vessels were also a possible threat, but so far, the Heart Pirates had not even met such a crew above water. But it was a crucial task nonetheless and someone had to do it. The Grand Line was an unpredictable sea. Even with all the extensive studies conducted on the currents that ran through it and between its islands, deviations from the patterns written down in books were rampant many kilometers below the surface. The Heart Pirates were no strangers to these occurrences.

The sharp whistle of steam hurtling out of the kettle's narrow spout snapped the young man out of his reverie. Like a well practiced art, he prepared a night's ration of coffee, and soon enough, he was headed off to the helm. The sub had been backed off into a natural three-walled dent in the underwater landscape, making the only places to watch out for what lay above and in front of them.

Penguin perched himself on the pilot seat, setting his hat and coffee aside as he unbuttoned his collar. He took a sip of his drink and smiled wistfully as schools of multicolored fish swam by beyond the glass windows.

* * *

_A/N: A random low-key ficlet for Penguin that somehow relates to piracy. Somehow. To be honest, I'm kind of using these vignettes to try to work around their personalities a little more. I'm not entirely sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing really._

_EDIT: [3-15-13] Version 2 finished_


	9. Nightmares

_Characters: Trafalgar Law, Shachi_

**IX**

Law had been staring at his ceiling for a good few minutes before he realized that he was awake. The darkness and silence were enough to fool his senses into believing so. An awareness to the presence of heavy emotions, ones he had not felt in a long time, floated in and out of his mind. Realizing the oddity of its mere presence was what brought the Heart Pirates captain out of his half-asleep state. He slowly sat up and allowed his head to veer towards the troubled source.

_The crew's quarters_, he noted as he sat in the darkness, trying to read the almost-familiar feeling. It was growing now, this wretched thing bleeding like viscous venom from the back of his mind, to claw and twist around in his insides. Law shut his eyes tight and breathed deeply as he forced it all back to his head.

It had been so long; he had thought he had closed this chapter in his life.

The pirate captain left his bed and sought out the vague presence. With each step he took, it pushed against the walls of the nook it swirled around in at the back of his head. It was as if it wanted to flood his senses: to become a physically manifested set of emotions and not just thoughts he comprehended. But Law didn't let it; he kept it caged in his mind.

His wanderings brought him outside the communal bathroom. By then, the pressure had turned into a dull pounding audible only to himself. He sensed the source of it to be inside the room. As he stepped inside, a sliver of the venom he had been holding back spilled over its cage and washed through his system.

Panic took root. The muscles of his limbs suddenly felt rigid and burning. Wrists and ankles throbbed with raw pain. A dark room, iron bars and large dirty hands quickly closing over his field vision flashed in his mind's eye before the invasive sensations rushed back to his head, a fainter presence there than it was before. The sloshing of water down a latrine registered in Law's ears not soon after and a shaky exhalation followed.

The other Heart Pirate in the room coughed and spat, then cleared his throat. His slow, deep breathing echoed in the confined space. Law's brows furrowed as he cast his eyes towards the sounds' source, settling on the door of the closest bathroom stall. A hollow feeling, one not caused by the sense still knocking at the back of his head, swirled like cold vapors in his chest.

He had not anticipated any repercussions for his barging into the residence of one of his superior's impertinent associates earlier that day. The nobleman – a vexing, high handed but pathetic coward of a man – was outraged by the intrusion and sent his unnecessarily large troop of personal guards to throw the Heart Pirates out in the street. Bepo alone had been enough to ward off the first waves of it; his perceived strangeness was also the reason the man called off the rest, after which he had the gall to bargain with the pirate captain he had just attacked: his 'pet' for their pardon.

Then it was Law's turn to be angry. Not one of the associate's 'elite guards' could even so much as groan when he was done with them. By then, the noble had recognized him for who he was and changed his tune. With pretentious glibness, he apologized for his mistake, offering him his most prized slave girl for compensation – 'to do with her what he willed'.

Never had he been so satisfied to bring the hammer of Donquixote Doflamingo's will down on his targets. He offhandedly consoled his first mate for the man's audacity when they left, though the bear had not really dwelt on it. He did not think anyone else had been affected by what they saw in the hidden crevices of that mansion that day.

He was wrong.

The stall door swung open and out stepped one of the crewmates who had accompanied him then, looking much worse for wear. His shirt clung to his frame, sweat-drenched and soiled a yellowish tint in front; the band of his pants was a shade darker than the rest of it. His red hair clamped together in greasy locks, framing his flushed face and plastering themselves to the nape of his neck. Under them, sullen eyes stared at Law where he stood. Shachi held the gaze for only a moment before turning to the row of lavatories opposite the stalls.

The pirate captain sighed and stepped outside, resolving to lean against the wall by the door in wait. The last remnants of that heavy emotion were almost gone now. The core of it felt as if it was being flushed down steel pipes by a torrent of water; Law wouldn't be surprised if that were the case. The closing of the tap and the rustle of fabric told Law that his crewmate had finished cleaning himself. He watched the other man's shadow gingerly approach and stop just at the other side of the door; hands fidgeted in their hold of a balled up shirt in his peripheral vision.

"Something the matter?" Trafalgar Law enunciated.

"It's nothing, captain," came a hoarse but otherwise calm reply.

"Shachi."

"Just... just nightmares." He swallowed audibly. "Don't worry about it, sir. It'll be gone in the morning."

Law grunted a reply. As his crewmate stepped out into the hall, he turned to face him and stretched an arm in the redhead's path. The latter stopped short and looked up at him. At the close distance, the pirate captain could see his heat-flushed puffy cheeks and bloodshot eyes in better light. The telltale signs of sleep loss were visible in the pronounced lines under his eyes.

"Forget those things," the Surgeon of Death found himself saying. "You're out of their reach; you're mine now."

A wide smile broke across Shachi's features, an expression his captain mirrored, despite himself.

"Aye, aye, captain."

* * *

_A/N: Somehow, I can't help but feel this came out a little awkward. I'm not too good with angst. I'm of the opinion that it's hard to write well. Again, the former-slaves-headcanon is at work here. If you missed the explanation for the aforementioned theory, I explained it a bit in Chapter 5._

_EDIT: [4-2-13] Version 2 finished_

_I like this better. :)_


	10. Dinosaurs

_Character(s): Trafalgar Law_

**X**

He had heard about him in his voyage through the Grand Line, this Marine rear admiral turned pirate. Unlike most people, however, it was not this one hundred eighty degree turn of allegiance that piqued his interest in the man: it was his devil fruit. After all, what curious medical mind would not want to see the inner workings of an extinct creature?

The mere thought of it always inspired so much amusement in Trafalgar Law. In his mind's eye, he would see every precise incision, every purposeful inspection, every stroke of his needlework and the rough estimates of drugs and materials for the imaginary operation. More than once, he had spooked his crewmates with the euphoria etched in his features during these spells of reverie.

So when he finally met X Drake in Sabaody Archipelago, he felt so familiar with the man that he went out of his way to extend a mocking greeting to him – the same person who hadn't the slightest idea just how many times the Surgeon of Death had imagined him on his operating tale. He passed him by without so much as a second glance. Law smirked through it nonetheless.

Terrible lizard he was indeed.

* * *

_A/N: I'd like to think Law likes dissecting people in his mind. Especially devil fruit users._

_EDIT: [3-22-13] Version 2 finished_


	11. Adoration

_Character(s): Jean Bart_

**XI**

To say that the Heart Pirates liked their captain was an understatement. They adored him.

Jean Bart had never quite met a group so willing to go out of their way to make one man as comfortable as they possibly could – and mean it. It made them happy, it seemed, to see to it that Trafalgar Law didn't have to lift a single finger.

When he asked, not one gave him a sensible response. They answered with vague descriptions like 'cool', 'smart', 'awesome' and the like.

Although that wasn't to say that they didn't have any misgivings about the man either. From time to time, one or another would complain about his faults or question his decisions. Yet despite his snarky comebacks and casual overruling of most, if not all, forms of dissent, every exchange between the captain and the crew seemed to endear him all the more to his crewmates.

The newest addition to the happy little group couldn't understand why this was so, for while the Heart Pirates captain fitted the image his crewmates described him to be, his general attitude didn't strike Jean Bart as one that would inspire so much adoration.

He sometimes wondered if he would learn the rhyme and reason behind their demeanor one day or merely unconsciously adapt it himself without ever knowing why.

* * *

_A/N: This probably shouldn't be taken so seriously. I was just playing around with the Heart Pirates-Trafalgar Law relationship dynamics and thought I'd place a confused Jean Bart there somewhere._

_EDIT: [3-22-13] Version 2 finished_


	12. Silence

_Characters: Heart Pirates Crew, Trafalgar Law_

**XII**

"Oi. Who the hell lef' them dish's on the table?" The asker's voice was bereft of its customary good humor.

"You're the cook. Isn't that part of your job?" came a drawl of a reply.

"Only after norm'l breakfast. After that, yous clean yur own dishes."

"I had the last watch yesterday. Of course I couldn't make it to the schedule."

Framing the door of the pilot room, the Heart Pirates cook muttered something under his breath. Then, turning back to the hall, he called out to the men gathered in the room.

"Well I ain't got no time for yur excuses. You shoulda told me earlier, y'know? 'Cuz now it's late and I gotta start 'n lunch."

A heavy silence fell over the group at his leave. Small glances were cast towards the object of their cook's ire. When he could no longer stand the accusing apprehension being thrown his way, he stood up wordlessly and strode out to the galley. The heavy air was disturbed only by the shifting of many stationary bodies on their seats, turning their attention back to whatever they had been doing before the appearance of the distraction.

The Heart Pirates had not surfaced for well over two weeks and not one of them could get their captain to allow them. He had given only one order since they resolved to stay in the first half of the Grand Line: to stay underwater. Indefinitely. After that, he kept himself locked up in his room, pacing up and down the small space if the constant clinking of his heels against steel floors was anything to go by. The only contact they had with him was when they brought him his meals, and even then the aura he emanated through the small crack between his door and its frame warded off all attempts at conversation.

They Heart Pirates crew had many guesses why the man was so wound up. It had not been too long ago that they assisted in the escape of one Monkey D. Luffy from what was now dubbed "The Summit War of Marineford". Closer still was the day that same pirate revisited the war's ruins and made headlines all over the world, confirming his survival, and by extension, the Surgeon of Death's hand in it. The latter had only served to increase the fervor of the Marines' efforts to track them down. Islands closest to Marineford were closed to them. In the seas surrounding Sabaody Archipelago and the Red Line, battleships patrolled the seas for the pirates involved in the war.

It was another good reason to not rush forward into the New World. As an extra precaution, they stayed submerged until the chaos that loomed ahead in plain sight made them yesterday's news. But there was something unsettling about their captain's silence; the intense look in his features whenever they saw him whispered trouble in their minds. With nothing concrete to confirm their worry, they shrugged it off and waited.

It was still the longest they had ever stayed underwater, however. It was also the first time they were stretching the limit of their air supply and it was unpleasant, to say the least. Despite their attempts to keep their spirits up, the growing heat, the thick air and the lack of things to do made every small gibe tantamount to a true insult. The thought of disobeying their captain and just resurfacing without permission, and maybe looking for an island to have their fun in, had been jokingly passed around, but when someone took the joke a little too far, they stopped talking about it altogether. It was too dangerous to have divided opinions in such closed quarters; a silent and unanimous resolution to stop pursuing the matter was made there and then, although it was one reconsidered by each of the men many times.

After that, tempers flared over the simplest disagreements like fires being fed dry fuel in arid air. Their own guilt over their unspoken insubordination aggravated their quarrels even more. In an effort to keep the peace, they talked and moved about less. With the heat and the slowing down in their activities, restlessness hung over them like a dark and heavy blanket.

By mid afternoon of the day even their good-natured cook started to crack, the entire crew – save for their engineer and their captain – had gathered in their control room, slumped over the seats. Only the pilot and the navigator's exchanges and the occasional turbulence warnings to the rest would have been comprehensible to an outside listener. Muttering, grunts and the drumming of fingers filled the silence in between. The opening of the room's door called the occupants' attention to it, and they all watched their engineer step in. He shed off his boiler room work gloves, regarding them with a stern glare, before breaking them the news.

"Seems like we only have a few hours of oxygen left."

The cacophony of responses was explosive and simultaneous. Panic and the want to put the blame on someone were the overpowering emotions that filled the room in just a few seconds, but before anyone could act on them, a blue light flashed from the center of the room. Each and every one of the Heart Pirates was thrown against the walls of the pilot room. Right at the source of the blast stood Trafalgar Law, a wide grin they had not seen for a while on his shadowed face.

"Crew," he purred, regarding each one of them with wide crazed eyes, "surface. We're hunting for some hearts."

* * *

_A/N: A sort of prequel for the next chapter. I liked how it turned out so I also wrote this for it. It still needs to be edited but I should be able to upload it by tomorrow._

_EDIT: [4-10-13] Version 2 finished_


	13. Masquerade

_Characters: Heart Pirates Crew, Trafalgar Law_

**XIII**

It was always the problem with these large crews; they were so overconfident, so caught up in their collective power that an infiltration among their ranks hardly crossed their minds on better days.

Especially if one looked amiable enough or didn't appear to be particularly strong. It was funny really. A man could prove his worth a few times watching unguarded backs and outplaying the less determined, and he was entitled to be shared secrets with, trusted his own watch, and – if he played his cards well enough – be able to stand in the proximity of the captain without raising eyebrows.

For one particular Heart Pirate, that point had long been reached. This pirate armada had been exceptionally hard to worm into, harder than any he had encountered so far. He should have figured that a 90 million beli bounty head would be no fool. News of many a high-bounty pirate disappearing or getting killed in the past eight months had made him suspicious of all new recruits and acquaintances. Even now, the man still had his reservations, but the mole in their ranks had already won the crew over. It was enough for the next phase of the plan.

He had contacted his crew the last time they docked at port, and now out at sea, he awaited their response.

Sitting at his watch post one clear night, the man couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation in his gut. It was on nights like these, when the sea was calm and the moon waning, that the Heart Pirates came for him. All four pirate crews before this – to slip away in the cover of darkness and take with him a memento of his stay.

There were three others on watch with him. It was a shame he had not taken the crow's roost. Had he known the night would be so ideal, he would have endured the motion sickness-inducing swaying of the ship's highest point. But with the circumstances being what they were, he had to deal with it. The pirate rechecked his fellow's positions before hiding under the shadow of his mast, away from the eyes of the crow's nest watch. From his belt pouch, he retrieved a baby den den mushi. He was disappointed when he found it asleep, but shook the feeling off as he looked out to sea.

Some two hours past midnight, the awaited response came. The snail's eyes opened with deliberate slowness, stopping midway, before stretching its mouth in a quiet smile. The unwitting crew's infiltrator mirrored the expression and held onto the ropes tied around the platform he sat on. The ship was jolted by an impact to its port side not soon after. The three other men on watch gave sharp cries of surprise as the ship swayed violently over the calm waters. They was no way they would have anticipated the attack, he was sure; the sea was empty in all directions. This was the sort of stealth granted only by an underwater vessel.

The last of them quickly stowed away his den den mushi and wasted no more time in swinging down to the deck. By the time the first batch of roused pirates burst through the cabin doors, he had flown to the captain's quarters.

He slammed the door open, hoping to wake the man in a panic, but found that what he had learned the past months on board held true: the captain could sleep through even the most cataclysmic storm. He almost paused in his exasperation, but the rising volume of outcries reminded him of the opportunity he was wasting. It was only a matter of time before the most quick-witted of the crew recognized the ploy.

With much urgency, the pirate roused the captain. A renewed onslaught of attacks, to their starboard now, made the disoriented man realize the cause for panic. He stormed to the door, captain's coat on his shoulders and his saber in hand. Purposeful in his march and illuminated by moonlight in the cacophony of crashing waves, battle cries and canon fire, the 90 million beli bounty man was a picturesque image of a captain on the war path.

The Heart Pirate grinned for all his whimsy, raising his gun and taking aim. Luck was good on him that day. His gunshot rang out the same moment the third set of enemy fire rained down on the ship. His bullet hit home at the base of his target's head and the man fell where he stood. The conspirator rushed through the short distance between himself and the dead body then rolled it on its back. His time limit drew ever closer. The third attack had been the last – as it had been the four times he had done this.

He took the captain's weapon from his limp grip, swung it above his head and down onto the corpse's sternum. There resounded a splintering crack and a burst of blood shot from the chest, but the bone held. He gritted his teeth and swung again. It took a few more hits before it gave in, and by then, the crew's excitement was reduced to a deathly silence. Heavy steps approached; his time was up.

Frantic now, he drew his own knife and severed the still-beating heart from the single large blood vessel it was attached to.

"Captain!" a voice called beyond the door just as he finished. "Captain, you scallywag-"

He never heard the words that came next. By then, he had made a running leap out of the room's large glass windows, and dove straight down into the choppy black sea below.

+.+

"Man, that was a long one," someone groaned just as Trafalgar Law brought the last of his crewmates from the infirmary to their common quarters.

"Don't even get me started," was another's reply.

Their captain couldn't help his snigger as he assisted his ward to his bunk.

"What's everyone complaining about?" he asked, flashing a smirk to the disgruntled men. "It's been a week since most of you got back. You don't hear him complaining." He jabbed a finger over his shoulder to point at their most recent arrival.

A chorus of groans and people shifting in their beds was the crew's reply. Law shook his head and strode to the door. He stopped beyond it, then turned to looked at them all.

"Congratulations, crew," he said. "The current count is fifty-seven. Do keep up the good work."

* * *

_A/N: Well, I hope that didn't disappoint too badly. To be honest, I wrote this just days after I read Law's comeback chapter. I liked it a lot so I didn't want to change it to fit canon facts. Maybe when I get some time in my hands I'll probably write a more serious story on the whole heart hunt thing, that is, if it doesn't get cleared out in the manga later on._

_Or, we could just think of it as how the crew helped their captain with his collection. Only their captain can actually use his devil fruit after all, and I couldn't pass up an opportunity to make the crew take a little bit more after their captain._

_EDIT: [4-24-13] Version 2 finished_


	14. Gunshot

_Character(s): Shachi_

**XIV**

"Just one shot? Not as tough as you thought you were, huh?"

A small man crouched next to a still body, poking it experimentally with the barrel of his gun. His lips were parted slightly and his eyes were wide behind films of tinted glass. The corpse stared up at him, face eternally set in an expression of surprise as rivulets of blood trickled like thick honey from around the bullet lodged on his forehead.

"But didn't you say you were gonna kill me with your bare hands?"

His mouth formed a smile around the words he uttered. The thrill of the fight was dying now, and in its place, all that was left was bliss. He wanted to laugh out loud, stand over his fallen enemy, and throw an underhanded kick or two at him, but he stopped himself.

He wouldn't go that far. Even if holding his own in a fight and winning them and killing anyone who had thought he was easy pickings made him feel so very strong, he wasn't so full of himself as to disrespect the dead. After all, their deaths granted him that happy little feeling of being above them, even for just a while – that feeling that the mere thought of in days long past made his insides twist in deep-rooted jealousy of all the things, all the basic human things, he thought he would never have.

"Well then," Shachi said out loud to his still and silent companion as he stood and hid away his weapon. "That was fun, but I really need to go now." He paused as he pulled his hat low over his face, then grinned at the lack of a response. "See 'ya."

* * *

_A/N: It doesn't have a very clear location, does it? Uh, let's see... They're in a secluded and closed-in space in the more sleepy hours of the afternoon, probably some sort of warehouse at the docks. Yeah, let's go with that._

_How the fight started? Anyone's guess is as good as mine. I just wanted to write the aftermath. ^^;_

_I confess I don't see the Heart Pirates as just a happy little crew that overly adores its captain. They look shady so I indulge in the theory that they have something to hide. I mean, why not? Law worked with this 'underworld' so what are the chances they might also be involved in it somehow? (Although it remains to be seen whether or not he was a pirate back then...)_

_EDIT: [4-24-13] Version 2 finished_


	15. Holding Back

_Characters: Shachi, Penguin_

**XV**

"What was that all about?" Shachi yelled at the man ahead of him, trying to catch up to his quicker, longer strides.

Penguin made no effort to reply; instead, he veered away from the main street and into an alleyway congested with snow-covered barrels and crates. The Heart Pirate after him cursed under his breath and broke into a run. In the side street, the inn they had left in a tumultuous uproar was out of sight, although the cold air still carried the cries of rage to his ears. His crewmate paused there, grinding his fist against the concrete wall when Shachi ducked into the temporary cover.

Rushing at the man, Shachi grabbed Penguin by his collar and pushed him into the wall, the inertia of his run knocking some air out of the latter.

"The hell is wrong with you?" the attacker growled. His crewmate coughed once, then inhaling sharply, shoved at him with infuriated energy. "Penguin, quit it."

"Leave me alone!" Penguin finally snapped back after much struggling. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

The shrillness of his pitch echoed in the cold air, reminding Shachi how distressed his friend was. He had already been on edge at the inn since that person — his anger dissipated somewhat with the reminder. But it was an explanation he needed at that moment, not a weight on his conscience. He glanced askance to the street they just left, checking to see if they had been followed. A number of men had stopped to look back to the inn and those who had not were hurrying to the opposite direction. During that time, Penguin pushed him away, his weak hold on his shoulders not betraying any intention of escape, so Shachi offered no resistance.

"Penguin," he started after a moment of silence, looking the other in the eye. He tried to keep his tone calm but even he could hear the edge of a snarl in it. "You tried to shoot a nobleman back there. What's wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear?" was his friend's replied, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. "I won't do it again."

Shachi's temper flared at the unnecessary sarcasm, but he stopped himself. Penguin was shaking, he had only just noticed; with anger or from distress, he wasn't sure. He had shrunken into himself too, with his shoulders raised so high and his head dipped so low on his chest that he almost didn't see him biting his lip under the raised collar of his shirt. He calmer man swallowed hard and backed off into the opposite wall. The other man didn't move and just stood there, never once looking away.

"This isn't easy for me Shachi," he started, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't stand the sight of them. I want to kill them, every last one of them. Even if that won't change what's already passed. But I can't even touch them; I know I can't. And that's what makes it so hard to live with." He was quiet for a while, grinding his heel into the snow. "Don't think I don't know. You're the same too."

Shachi gritted his teeth at the accusation, glaring back with hard eyes and not knowing what to say.

* * *

_A/N: The setting for this short passage is in North Blue in the early days of the Heart Pirates, when they were all younger and angrier. I hope the characterizations aren't too impossible._

_As always, thank you for all the reviews. I really appreciate that people take the time to read these little vignettes I write._

_EDIT: [5-15-13] Version 2 finished._


	16. Ribbon

_Characters: Bepo, Heart Pirates_

**XVI**

"Can I take it off now?" Bepo's low rumble mumbled whilst the bear stood, shoulders hunched and eyes downcast, under the crew's intent stares.

"But it looks cute on you," Shachi laughed. "A girl gave it to you, you know."

"Sorry..."

The crew burst into another chorus of snorts and guffaws, making the self-conscious polar bear squirm and grumble. They were ganging up on him and he didn't like it one bit. Even if the jokes were made in good humor, that didn't make being the butt end of their jokes any more enjoyable. The bright red ribbon tied around the button of his collar, however, made sure that not one of them was going to leave him be.

Bepo wished they would.

Ridiculous as it was, the bow was special to him: it was a token of a little girl's gratitude. Even if the gesture had been a complete accident, he had brought the child out of harm's way and the bow was her thanks. It would be nice if he could attach sentimental feelings to it and not scorn.

"Leave him alone, crew," Law lazily commented from where he sat, although his tone betrayed his amusement. "Penguin, take it off."

"Yes captain," the crew chirped in reply as Penguin stepped forward and pulled off the length of lace.

"Don't lose it now," Penguin teased with a goofy grin, placing the ribbon into Bepo's outstretched paws.

* * *

_A/N: [5-15-13] Version 2 finished._


	17. Dig

_Characters: Heart Pirates_

**XVII**

The grim-faced and shivering crew of the Heart Pirates stood by the railings of their submarine deck, staring out at the frozen sea around them. One or two cursed under their breaths while some grimaced at the thought of what would inevitably come next. Still, others found some humor in their predicament.

"Guess this solves the question, 'What are we gonna do today?', eh?" Shachi chirped, clapping his mittened hands together in an effort to drive some sensations back into them.

The crew half-grumbled and half-snickered a reply and turned to their captain, who stood scanning the sea from the stern of the ship.

"What's the verdict, captain?" Penguin called to him.

The tall, slender man, further reduced in width by his dark long coat in the stark white landscape, faced the group and sighed a foggy exhalation of resignation.

"Bring out the gear," he said. "We should be able to dig ourselves out in a few hours."

"Aye, aye captain."

The North Blue pirate crew promptly marched back into their ship, chatting noisily about which equipment to collect and whether the ice gear had been properly dried the last time they used them. Questions and answers were thrown back and forth during their trip down to the hold, where they traded in their leather soled boots for steel spiked ones, replaced mittens with work gloves and goofed around with impact goggles.

"Has anyone seen the captain?" Penguin asked when they were finally heading out. In his hands were the missing Law's share of ice gear.

"He stayed out," a crew mate was quick to respond. "Said somethin' 'bout meas'rin' the ice."

"Ah. I sure hope it's not as bad as it looks."`

"Yeah," another laughed. "So we can get the hell outta here and find ourselves a nice summer isle before nightfall."

The crew all sighed at the thought; they hoped this spell of bad luck would end on a nice note. After one last check of their inventory, the Heart Pirates made their way back to the deck. They had a long afternoon ahead of them.

* * *

_A/N: A situation inspired by a chapter in Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea._

_To explain a bit of their situation, the Heart Pirates surfaced to replenish their air supply near a winter island (in its winter season) in the Grand Line. They hadn't anticipated the ice they broke through to freeze and thicken so quickly, so they were left to cut their way out with hatchets and pickaxes. They probably wouldn't have needed the bombs since they plan to submerge and not plow through the ice. _

_I'm not really sure how Law's submarine's compartments work, since it's less the torpedo-shaped subs in the real world and can actually sail like a normal ship, so I'll just pretend it has the same interior layout as a normal ship (with a few extra compartments for the submersion system, underwater power, etc. etc.)._

_EDIT: [5-15-13] Version 2 finished._


	18. Poltergeist Activity

_Character(s): Ban (one of the fandom names for the bandanna guy from Chapter 580, page 4), Trafalgar Law_

**XVIII**

_Thunk!_

"Ow!" a groggy and indignant yell disturbed the sleepy silence of the Heart Pirates submarine. "The hell was that?"

"What the— Jeez! What time is it?" came a voice farther down the hall.

Two more thuds, a bang and a yelp later, and the crew's quarters was in an uproar.

Jolted by the first exclamation, Ban had jumped from his coffee and ran for cover beside the helm's half-open doors. His watch was moving along peacefully before the racket started, and he had just thanked his lucky stars for a clear night, too. Apparently, Lady Luck didn't appreciate his praise. The Heart Pirate pulled out his flintlock and loaded it. Questions raced through his mind, prompting him to push his bandanna farther up his forehead to keep sweat from trickling into his eyes.

Were they under attack? But the search before lights out saw no stowaways. Did something escape their notice? An elite assassin or something?

No sooner had he finished preparations did he kicked off from the wall and pivot on his heel to stand in the space between the helm's doors. He had hardly raised his gun when he was sent staggering back by a full-faced hit by a high-speed, airborne—

Pillow?

Ban's jaw involuntarily jutted forward as he picked up the bag of fluff. He scowled down at it, panic turning into annoyance. The Heart Pirate glanced outside; it was dark, he noticed. The evening lamps were closed and the ruckus from the crew's quarters continued. If this was just some form of elaborate joke, his fist were going to make sure someone paid for it.

That same moment he was swearing payback, a familiar blue circle of light appeared ahead of him. He smirked; those guys were in for it now for waking the captain.

But Trafalgar Law never came. In his place appeared a large hardwood bookshelf, which shook for a moment as if surprised, dropping a number of books as it did. Ban stared wide-eyed at the furniture, jaw unhinging, and before he could form any comprehensible thoughts, the bookshelf sped towards him like a fired cannonball.

"Holy shit—"

+.+

Law woke up to a peaceful morning, feeling refreshed. Cool sunlight painted patterns on his floor as they streamed in through his window. He smiled and reflected on what a good idea it was to have settled in that shallow reef the night before.

The pirate captain stretched and contemplated his good mood. He remembered dreaming about something nice: he fought and defeated his many nemeses – both the old and the faceless future enemies – in a battle where he sat in his rightful throne in the very end. It was an amusing reverie in which he was untouchable in his field – his room – and all who dared attack him were sent headlong into the dirt or cut up and thrown around until they was no fight left in them.

Law chuckled at his mind's childishness, and then threw off his sheets to head for the bathroom. After morning rituals, he sauntered off to the galley for breakfast. There he found a haggard group of young men whose eyes were all bloodshot and glaring. He raised a brow at the sight and, nonchalantly, asked,

"What happened to you guys?"

* * *

_A/N: I've often wondered if devil fruit users ever accidentally used their abilities in their sleep. We know for sure that Luffy still stretches when he's asleep, so this is my version with Law throwing and warping things about while unwittingly terrorizing his crew. ^^;_

_And I used Ban's perspective this time for the sole reason that I wanted to use someone other than Penguin, Shachi or Bepo._

_EDIT: [5-15-13] Version 2 finished._


	19. Climb

_Characters: Trafalgar Law, Heart Pirates Crew_

**XIX**

Law gritted his teeth as he braced himself for the next roaring gust that raced through the river valley. Digging his fingers and boots into the crevices of the rock wall was all he could manage to keep himself plastered to the sheer rock cliff. Below him, his crew mates yelped in fright and warning. The wind died soon enough and the Heart Pirates gave a synchronized sigh of relief.

"Everyone still alive?" Law called when he gathered his wits.

"Still here cap'n" "Yes, sir." "Everyone accounted for, captain." "Here."

"Good, let's go."

The pirate captain waited for the slackened rope attached to his climbing harness to be readjusted before continuing. Experimentally, he tugged at his last anchor to the valley wall, deemed it stable, and then adjusted his weight to lift a leg to its next foothold. He pushed his foot down on it and carried himself to his next undignified position. The leader of the climb scanned his immediate surrounding for a crack in the rock, and upon finding one, jammed a new anchor into it. The spring mechanism locked in place with a satisfactory click. He allowed himself a pause as his crew climbed up after him.

Law bowed his head against the cool surface of the rock cliff. Even at that moment halfway through this infernal quest, he still questioned the very reason that brought him there.

A week before, as his crew approached their next destination, Joker pitched an offer to him: that he do him favor, and in exchange the man would give him information. Law's end of the bargain seemed worth the theft his boss was asking him to commit. It was not the first time he would be adding breaking and entering to his long list of crimes. Or armed robbery for that matter.

Alas, he should have expected Joker would find a way to make the task more interesting, amusing in his part and difficult in Law's. The shichibukai had a terrible sense of humor, that much the younger pirate knew, but he certainly did not expect that he would be disallowed the use of his devil fruit ability. But he was determined to claim his prize. Once on the island, they made quick work of surveying the private facility that housed his boss's item. Of all the possible entrances, the drainage system emptying out into river was the easiest way inside, easiest because it was the only one unguarded.

Still, they wouldn't have needed to go through all the trouble if Law wasn't so restricted. The thought of just disobeying Joker's orders and doing whatever the hell he wanted crossed the devil fruit user's mind many times, but the man had too many eyes in inconvenient places; he didn't want to test him. And more than the information, his pride was also at stake now.

"Incoming, captain!"

Law scowled and pulled himself closer the rock wall like the human-sized spider he resembled there and then and braced himself for another rattling.

* * *

_A/N: It's been a while. I've actually had this written for a while now, except they were climbing without equipment and I couldn't pick up the motivation to research rock climbing until today. I don't really know what got into me to make the crew into ninjas, but I like imaging them doing all sorts of crazy stuff. ^^;_

_EDIT: [5-15-13] Version 2 finished._


	20. Child

_Characters: Bepo, Trafalgar Law, Penguin_

**XX**

Like any creature, the polar bear cub was quick to recognize their group's alpha, that is to say, their captain. Just as naturally, he also assumed him to be his new mother.

Bepo, as he was now called, followed the man everywhere. Only momentarily would he leave Law side to investigate the curious things in the submarine, before running back to his new guardian. When he was happy, he would playfully romp around him, being a little ball of destruction more often than not. When he was scared, it was to the man he would first rush to and cower behind. Even up to the moment he slept, he was with the captain.

Law, in turn, responded with patience. He gave Bepo attention when he asked for it, helped feed and clean him, and actually gave some effort to train the cub – an effort he used to only reserve for his studies. He took his crew's teasing in silence, even allowing them to drag him out of the comfort of his untidy little nook to do his share of the small bear's care.

But small he didn't stay for very long. Soon enough, he was outgrowing the miniature Heart Pirates jumpsuits the crew made for him faster than they could sew them. More often than not, Law found himself curled up against a warm ball of white fur deeply embedded into the cushions of his bed. He was also starting to eat through their food stocks, prompting the pirate crew to buy more than they needed at every port as a precaution.

Trafalgar Law, although he would never openly admit it, felt all the vexation was well worth it. There was nothing better than waking up to the adoring whining of a young animal begging to be carried to the breakfast table, a ritual they gradually formed for each morning.

Which was why when neither Law nor Bepo showed up for breakfast table at their usual hour, the crew was left to wonder if something had happened to them. Penguin volunteered to investigate and jogged off to his captain's quarters.

"Captain?" he asked with a knock outside his door. "It's time for breakfast." When he received no answer, he was once again prompted to knock. "Captain? Something the matter?"

The door handle turned and the click that came after it told him that the lock had been undone. The door didn't open, however, so when Penguin ventured inside, he was wary with suspicious anticipation. It had been good that he was, else he might have found himself laughing out loud at his captain's face.

Sitting at the edge of his bed was Trafalgar Law, arms hidden under the bulk and fur of a sixty-kilo polar bear cub sitting on his lap. The man was adjusting Bepo in any way he could in an effort to get his own feet under him, without much success, and the bear whined at all his failed attempts to move him from such a comfortable position.

"Need some help, captain?" Penguin asked, grinning wide.

* * *

_A/N: A sort of sequel for Chapter 5._

_Let's conveniently ignoring the fact that Law could have used his devil fruit to carry Bepo (and many other more logical solutions), shall we? ^^;_

_EDIT: [5-15-13] Version 2 finished._


	21. Experiment

_Character: Trafalgar Law, Penguin, Shachi_

**XXI**

His crew was weak; he could no longer deny it.

Sitting in his medical bay, Law could do nothing but listen to the slow beeping of life support machines, face buried in his hands. Just looking at his crewmates' sleeping forms pained him.

That they had been trashed by another up-and-coming North Blue pirate crew was an understatement; their fight was more a carnage than a battle. If Law had not able to take his submarine away from the battleground with his devil fruit ability, their losses would have been greater.

It was not entirely their fault. Doflamingo – his 'brother', the man he swore his loyalty to – requested the meet up; why should he have suspected anything? Law had not seen him since he set sail with the Heart Pirates and the man did promise to see him before he returned to the Grand Line.

The pirate-doctor dropped his plans and sailed to their rendezvous point, where a different pirate crew awaited them. The battle that followed was nothing more than a drawn-out escape: they were unprepared and combat was not his crew's forte. (Not yet, he desperately wanted to believe, but what use were his hopes when he could barely assure his men their safety?)

His first thoughts then, when surprise dissipated and panic took over, were for his brother, so much so that he failed to mind his own crew. Thinking on it now, he should not have wasted even a trickle of worry for that sadist he called his superior. He recognized the variant of the New Age smiley on their attacker's flag, if only in passing. It was a setup and he walked right into it.

After all, Donquixote Doflamingo toyed with everybody. He found enjoyment in pitting people against each other, both to weed out the weak and to constantly test his aces. Or just to give fodder to his favorite subordinates. Law was stupid to believe he would be treated any differently, that Doflamingo would leave him alone because he came from under his wing. He even gave him a submarine, damn him. Who wouldn't feel special?

But the facts stood—the Heart Pirates were being tested and they were faring very poorly.

The betrayal and his foolishness didn't make it any easier to accept. Being his own captain, having a name that inspired respect from all those who heard it, and in some deep secret part of him, making Donquixote Doflamingo proud of having him in his roster was everything he had been working for.

And he was none of them.

The very thought made breathing painful and his chest throb. In a fit of rage, Trafalgar Law swept his arms across his desk to throw his possessions to the ground; books, journals and glass jars came crashing to floor. When the deed was done, he clasped his hands over his eyes, screaming and swearing repeatedly. He screamed until all anger left him, leaving him gasping and shaking.

By then his mind had calmed, and gingerly, he willed it to focus, to think and to plan. Hands dropped to his sides, and for the first time in many hours, Law looked up. The sight of his injured crewmates had lost its piercing sting, now just a dull reminder of his guilt, as the gears in his head slowly began to turn.

+.+

The door noisily swung open and two sets of footsteps shuffled inside. Another sound – an irregular, heavy scraping against steel – accompanied the steps. Law waited expectantly for the new arrivals to announce themselves, although he did not pause in his work.

"Hey captain?" Shachi was the first to speak up.

"Hn?"

"We got that guy you asked for."

At this answer, their captain looked to them. Shachi and Penguin stood midway between the door and himself, all grins and snickers as they supported an unconscious, burly man between them. A corner of Law's mouth stretched into a smirk.

"Put him on the table. Strap him down while you're at it."

His crewmates adjusted their grips on their burden, and heaved him up on one of the many operating tables of the Heart Pirates medical bay, the captain coming forward as they bound their capture.

"Looks a lot older up close," Law murmured. "We might have to forego his lungs along with the liver and kidneys."

Shachi snorted. "Yeah, you could smell the smoke and alcohol on him from a mile away."

"He's sturdy, at least," Penguin added, looking over Law's shoulders for another look at their capture. "I heard he worked at the docks. His muscles'll be useful."

"We'll see," was the doctor's reply. "So how'd you guys manage to get this one? Funny, you two don't look too roughed up."

"Eh? Don't you believe in our powers of persuasion, captain? We've been working real hard on them, you know. Nearly got a girl last week. But, uh, it wasn't like we were seducing this guy or anything. We…were…oh okay, fine. So maybe we snuck a pill or two in his drink—"

While the exchange progressed, a blue sphere engulfed the group. Law held out his hand, palm up and fingers partway curled, and a loosely tied bunch of pill boxes fell into it. He offered them to his crew mates, who quieted down and accepted them.

"Schedules and dosages are inside," the doctor said as he fished out the pack of surgical gloves tucked in his pants' back pocket. His eyes veered to the form on the table, already starting on a preliminary inspection. "Yours have your names on it. Get them wrong and consider yourselves next on this table."

"Aye, aye, captain," Penguin replied, he and his companion taking their leave. "Anything else, sir?"

"Lock the door."

The pair shut the door behind them as instructed. Then, they strolled off to pass on the crew's medication, heedless of the muffled screams from the room they had just left.

* * *

_A/N: It's been a while since I added anything to this but hopefully, I'll have a few more chapters up in the next few days._

_Just in case it was unclear, this vignette is set in the early days of the Heart Pirates in North Blue._

_EDIT: [5-15-13]_


	22. Interest

_Character: Trafalgar Law_

**XXII**

The chill was a bitter one, but at least the storm had died down. Law, for one, was relieved that it had; he was sick of being stuck at the port guard's office with all the other stranded seafarers. The cramped room's stuffy warmth and its occupant's mindless chatter had him craving for a drink, preferably a strong one.

Out in the town half-buried in snow, his headache soon faded. (The absence of common folk trying to include him in their gossiping played a great part in it, he liked to believe.) He made his way through the main street, looking about for any sign of a tavern, and with every other man out and about wandering to a common direction, it didn't take long for him to take a hint. He fell in step with the scattered parade.

Soon enough, a large weather-worn building came into view. Much of the storm's residue at its façade had been trampled into a muddy slosh and the windows and sign were still frosted over. This didn't seem to discourage any of its patrons, however, for already a warm orange glow and boisterous laughter bled through its thick walls.

Despite his usual self control, Law quickened his pace, and in his excitement, bumped unceremoniously into a towering wall of a man heading the same way.

The middle-aged man looked down at what had hit him, found a small, slight, young man there, and sneered at him. He then turned to the crowded tavern door and added to the growing blockage. The pirate captain glared at the man's back, embarrassment turned into annoyance. He swore to return the favor of scorn later as he backed away from the shoving crowd.

Path now obstructed, Law decided to wait for the current wave of men to thin. He looked around to pass the time, taking in the town's view and finding nothing of note. It was a fishing village if he ever saw one, probably a makeshift shipyard for the desperate. Small boats lined the beach, having been taken out of the water before the storm, while discarded, broken nets littered many a roof and house front. All commercial establishments were closed for the day and only the feeble but warm glow of candlelight from the locals' windows disturbed the dimness of the late afternoon half-light; if it weren't for the pub and its rowdy patrons, it would have been quite a dreary place.

Still looking for a distraction from impatience, his eyes veered back to the tavern, sweeping over the alley across the street along the way. There, movement caught his eye, and he looked on with a more discerning eye.

Four silhouettes struggled behind the cover of barrels and snow, three against the last. They would have been out of sight to the normal passerby, but Law was just the right angle for his view to be only partially obstructed.

One of the attackers had their wildly struggling prey by the collar of his coat and pinned to the wall. It could have been a her, but before their watcher could find out, a fresh burst of laughter from the bar made his eyes dart to the door. It was cleared now, he found, and the observation made him lose all interest in the commotion across the street. He spared it one last look, in time to see the captured one land a kick from his suspended state on his captor, before Law closed the distance between him and the warmth the tavern promised.

The North Blue pirate captain's entire stay there he spent avoiding conversation and making good of his promise to the man who had blocked him off at the door. His ability had always been useful, but that night, it provided him endless amusement. No one would have suspected the silent, brooding figure drinking alone at the end of the bar to be responsible for any of the careless stumbles and bad luck of a lumbering drunk.

By the time he stepped back out in the snow, the pirate's mood was almost festive. It was dark and a light drizzle of snow was falling. The streets were quiet, the locals having retreated to their homes many hours before, and much of the storm's remnants had been shoveled away, trampled over or left where they didn't disturb foot traffic. Law judged that his crew was probably looking for him by then.

He started off but his wandering focus led his eyes to fall onto the alleyway, darker now than before, across the street. There was little he could make out; however, a faint stream of moonlight from the other end outlined a figure seated against the wall where the confrontation earlier had been.

Alcohol-induced curiosity overcame his indifference, and the tipsy young man crossed the street and stepped into the shadows. The fallen snow was undisturbed for a few meters into the side street, but as he neared, it was so displaced that there were patches of ground visible in many places. A wide smile broke across his face.

Three prostrate bodies lay around the seated one, with dark, shapeless circles of melted frost around all four. Of frozen blood, the pirate doctor mused. Numerous rips in the men's clothing revealed the freezing meat below. One glace at the long, serrated knife still in the seated person's hand hinted to Law the events that had unfolded many hours before.

Upon closer inspection, he also found that the unexpected victor was still alive, barely, but the slow rhythm of the person's chest was unmistakable. Law couldn't help but grin. The bastard sure was stubborn about dying. He, yes, 'he' now that he looked at him long enough, would make an interesting addition to his crew. Surely, no one would miss a supposedly dead man. He might even be doing him a favor by taking him away, if he ever survived the night without any help. Even if the boy pleaded self-defense, in a small town like this, murder was still murder and he would never escape the stigma. He might as well be a pirate.

Striding over the corpses, Law approached the boy and squatted next to him. His cheeks, eyelids and lips were tinted a deathly blue but he was no longer bleeding. The pirate captain used his devil fruit ability to lift him from the ground, adjust his stiff limbs and settle him on his back, before eagerly hurrying off back to his submarine.

* * *

_A/N: An alternate theory from my usual on Law's recruitment process._

_Sorry for not keeping my promise to post soon after the last chapter. :( My beta and I have just started another semester in our respective colleges so things have been hectic._

_EDIT: [5-23-13] Version 2 finished._


	23. Question

_Characters: Trafalgar Law, Shachi_

**XXIII**

Reckless. Every last one of them. It had been grating at the end of Law's nerves ever since he started noticing: his crew didn't seem to have any sense of self preservation sometimes.

It was rare for them to start confrontations themselves, since they would rather stay in the sidelines and watch. However, when they did get involved, they fought like they had a number of lives stashed away in their closets to spare. Fights weren't exactly uncommon now that they had made a name for themselves.

Week in and week out, Law found himself sewing up lacerated muscles, extracting bullets from whatever limb or torso they were embedded into, realigning and splinting broken bones (thankfully, these, at least, were few and far between) and patching up every other minor injury his little band of misfits managed to acquire.

None were particularly life-threatening and the skirmishes they came from were always won, but the doctor wished they would take better care of themselves. Such a blind way of fighting could be the death of them one day. If any one of them kicked the bucket because they ran headlong into a blade swing instead of dodging or parrying it, he swore he would desecrate their sorry corpses – he would cut them up and use their pieces as projectiles to disorient their enemies, and then harvest their organs for study and spares.

Or so Law told Shachi as he was patching up multiple cuts on the latter's arms. The redhead apologized for the trouble, snickering through most of it. For that, his captain scowled and commented on their dwindling supply of anesthesia and their distance from the nearest trustworthy source. That stopped his snickering but the goofy smile on his face refused to bow to his threats.

"Why can't you guys be more careful?" Law muttered as he returned to his work.

"Because, captain," Shachi replied, pursing his lips as was his habit when he was pleased with himself. "We have one hell of a doctor."

The man was struck dumb for a moment as a myriad of emotions bubbled over in his gut.

"That is the worst piece of logic I have ever heard in my entire life."

* * *

_A/N: [5-23-13] Version 2 finished._


	24. Loophole

_Character: Penguin_

**XXIV**

The man's grin was sudden and unsettling. Penguin scowled and clenched the fist closed around a handful of the former's shirt a little tighter. Despite his silent threat, the shorter, squarely-built ruffian sneered at him.

"Gotcha now, 'ya dirty pirate," he spat as he pushed himself against the Heart Pirate.

A foreign pressure in his abdomen that same moment made Penguin suddenly aware of pain shooting through his entire system. His next breath was a painful choke. For the first time in that battle, his eyes left his opponent and his vision trailed down to his own midsection.

The white fabric of his clothes was tinted a deep crimson, with the stain steadily growing. At the source of the sickening red was a blade thrusted deep into his stomach. His attacker laughed as the he released his hold on him. Shocked and thinking only to free himself now, Penguin jerked back, but the other man wasn't about to let him go; he stepped forward with him and tilted the weapon downward for a deeper stab.

The pirate hissed, the pain returning some sense in him, and grabbed with both hands the blade not yet embedded in his body in an attempt to take control of the short sword. Despite his resistance, however, he did not have the better leverage in the situation; his attacker was intent on using it to his advantage. The underdog could do nothing but keep his hold on the weapon as the other man stabbed steadily deeper. The slow, torturous boring stopped only when the hilt met Penguin's hands, effectively stopping the last half of the sword from piercing him. By then, the blade had cut into his hands; his grip slipped with their bleeding. The sword-wielding man must have felt it, for he swiveled his weapon from side to side, then laughed at the pained whimper the motion elicited. He drew another weapon, a knife this time, and poised it against the hunched over man's throat.

"Any last words, pirate?_" _the ruffian gloated.

Penguin gritted his teeth and glared at his would-be killer, mind working on overdrive for a way to retaliate. As his thoughts went further and further back the events of the fight and then of that day, his features relaxed: this injury will not kill him. The sheer relief from the realization allowed a chuckle to escape his lips. His tense muscles slackened as he continued to laugh quietly; he felt so at ease that he even let go of the blade he held.

His attacker made no attempt to finish what he had started despite the opening presented to him. He merely stared up wide-eyed at the pirate still halfway skewered to his sword straighten himself up and return his gaze.

"You think," Penguin said, easily taking the shorter man's knife with both free hands. "You've actually won?"

He seemed to gather his bearings with the Heart Pirate's declaration, for he screamed and stabbed forward, but the taller man held his ground, planting his palms firmly on the other's shoulders and putting all his weight to his toes. Gods, it hurt. The pair struggled for control, however, the attack's receiver had the more stable footing this time. One by excruciating one, he counted the seconds until his opponent lost his momentum, then shoved him away with adrenaline-spiked power. The ruffian teetered on the balls of his feet for a moment, trying to regain his center of gravity as he fixed his sword grip, and in that moment, Penguin took the chance to even out the playing field.

With his stolen knife, the pirate slashed a large rip across his uniform's top: to through it the hidden gun strapped to his hip. At the sight of it, his opponent tried to take back his main weapon, clasping both hands around the handle. The Heart Pirate was quick to sense the attempt, threw aside the knife, and made good of his now-free hand by grabbing hold of the retreating blade. His grip was weak, but it was enough to make the weapon's shaken owner abandon the sword.

The man – now disarmed and against an armed and angry pirate – turned tail and ran. The injured man cursed and shot at him, but his bullet missed its mark. From the way the escaping man limped, the pirate guessed he probably hit a leg. His insulted pride urged him to pursue the coward but logic reminded him there was something more urgent to attend to. Like his still-impaled and bleeding abdomen for example.

With much wincing, Penguin pulled out the last length of the short sword, sat himself down, and undid the front of his ruined boiler suit. He needed to stem the bleeding before he hurried back to the ship for medical assistance. As he searched the hidden pockets of his clothes for his stash of gauze and bandages, he made a mental note to thank his captain for his crazy experiments when he saw him again.

Because of them, Penguin's organs were safely hidden away in his captain's study, away from the dangers of both blade and bullet until the surgeon could figure out the limits of his newest skill.

* * *

_A/N: In case anyone's curious, Law's practicing his Mes technique. In my headcanons, he can use it for more than just the heart. :D [And he uses his crew as preliminary test subjects. But that's just me.]_

_As pointed out by my beta, if we go by canon facts, there should have been a hole/ holes through Penguin if Law had used Mes on him. Let's pretend that, instead of holes that pierce all the way through, there are only hollow cavities in Penguin's abdomen because Law was still practicing. Therefore, Mr. Sword-wielding-ruffian would still have had something to stab. Please bear with my faulty reasoning. "OTL_

_EDIT: [5-23-13] Version 2 finished._


	25. In the Guise of the Proverbial Wrench

_Characters: Heart Pirates, Strawhat Pirates_

**XXV**

"Hey Penguin, check it out," a voice whispered to the Heart Pirate as the man next to him nudge an elbow to his arm.

The so-addressed tilted his head up from his drink to look at the speaker, finding Shachi staring towards the room's door, and shifted his sight to see what had caught his crewmate's attention. A large, noisy group was stalling at the tavern's doors, taking their sweet time to get in and obscuring the broken view of the sky and what lay underfoot the swinging doors normally framed.

The first half that led the mob were laughing and jeering at the expense of one of their fellows, a buxom red-haired beauty who looked positively infuriated with their antics. Right behind them, a pair was caught up in a heated argument, the men's foreheads almost touching like two rams about to duel. At the tail of the group was yet another pair, quieter than their fellows and content with just watching them. Penguin could not help but stare, just like every last one of the pub's patrons who had been quietly minding their own business before the rowdy group arrived.

The largest of them looked like an unfinished cyborg, his torso and arms mostly robotic and his exposed legs fleshy in appearance. Next to him was an equally tall but very slim man sporting an Afro; his face seemed to be painted in the fashion of a skull. Two women stood within their ranks: the angry redhead – now berating the men poking fun at her – and a dark woman watching her comrades with an amused smile. Save for the walking two-foot-tall plush, there wasn't much to say about the rest. There were three scruffy-looking brunets, one of whom had a really long nose, a well-dressed blond, and a man who carried three swords on his hip. He could make out little else in the poor lighting of the room.

Had his eyes not fallen onto the infamous straw hat, Penguin would have, at first glance, disregarded the group as just another crazy pirate crew in the New World, and returned to his drink. But they did, and he immediately knew that he was now in the same room as one of the biggest names in the Grand Line.

News of their reappearance in Shabondy Archipelago had made headlines many weeks before. There were also rumors of their involvement in an incident in Fishman Island, so it wasn't illogical for anyone to assume that the Strawhat Pirates now sailed in New World waters. More than just any random theorist, Penguin had also met the controversial crew before. Even if it had been two years since then, some of their more prominent features had stuck to him, so despite the fact his memory on who looked like what or exactly how many Strawhat Pirates there were was a little hazy, what few and fragmented facts he did know convinced him that this was the real deal.

Penguin turned his back to them, scowling and pulling his hat lower over his face. His two companions did the same, probably having come to the same conclusion. The Heart Pirate second mate was thankful they decided to go there in attires less conspicuous than their uniform. And without Bepo, Jean Bart or any other crewmate who might have gotten anyone's head to turns for that matter.

If this chance meeting had been under any other conditions, it wouldn't have mattered how they reacted from that point. They could quietly leave or approach the other crew, to make friends or even start a fight, and the consequences of their actions would not weigh heavily on them. However, neither leaving nor inviting attention was an option at that point in time.

They were here to meet up with their captain.

Months before, the newly appointed Royal Shichibukai left the Heart Pirates for 'a personal mission', one whose details he refused to relate to them. The crew had only vague guesses of the man's intentions, but they trusted his decision nonetheless. Captain and crew set a date and place for their reunion, as well as agreed on what tasks they were to accomplish in the meantime. Then, their captain disappeared; they had not heard from him since.

The orders left to them had been easy enough to accomplish; Law knew their skills well and had assigned them jobs that would suit them best. This efficiency almost inevitably assured that they would finish before their time limit, so they had many idle hours to kindle terrible speculations and halfhearted optimism about their superior's well-being. The fact their fellow pirates were apprehensive towards their status as Shichibukai crew didn't help their case: the Heart Pirates had been feeling miserable even before this new wrench was thrown headlong into the heart of their plans.

With another glance at the now-settled Strawhat company, Penguin whispered an order to his crewmates.

"Let's just—" he said as a crash of porcelain resounded behind him. "—Sit here—" Boisterous laughter and the thud of wooden mugs against a table. "—and try not to get involved with them."

"I don't think that's for us to decide," Ban muttered, now unabashedly staring at the tabletop dance Strawhat Luffy had started with a number of crew mates, both unwilling and not, and some patrons.

More broken dinnerware, five songs and random exclamations of what sounded like "Supa!" later and Penguin wanted nothing more than hide under a blanket in the comfort of his quarters. All the noise, the festivity, and the desperate wish to avoid recognition (by a possibly hostile group) weren't helping his worries. He had nothing but a promised meeting date to know the outcome of his captain's mission, and here that day was, served with fate's ill humor.

Once or twice, they were wrenched from their seats to complete the local square dance's quota of participants, many agonizing minutes they spent with eyes averted from their partners (even though no one knew their faces [But apprehension was an easy emotion to read; this they knew for themselves. {Did any of the Strawhats sense theirs when they were paired up for a round of dancing?}]). Another time, the woman with the mysterious smile struck up a conversation with Ban, through which he stuttered through more than he usually would have. They also narrowly avoided getting caught up in an arm wrestling contest with the swordsman and a number of drunks.

"Guys?" Shachi spoke up at one point. He had just returned from the second bout of square dancing and was sinking as deep as he could manage into his seat. "I don't think the captain would even think of walking in here with all this—" Another round of Bink's Sake started up from the Strawhats' general direction. "—commotion."

A good few minutes of considering the thought in their rattled minds and the group of three was more than willing to jump out through the nearest window; common sense, however, implored that they leave in a less conspicuous manner. Standing from their table, the men picked their way through the fired up crowd, never more relieved. If luck was with them, their captain was probably already waiting outside, ready to scold them for loitering so long.

As they arrived at the doors, Penguin reached forward and pushed them open, the same instant a blue field of light engulfed them from behind.

The Heart Pirates froze; the doors had swung back and forth a few times before they even dared turn around. Just a few steps behind them was the third brunet of the Strawhat party. His unruly hair was plastered over his sweat-dotted forehead while his chest and shoulders rose and fell in the rhythm of the breathing pattern of an exhausted man.

If Penguin's memory served him correctly, it was the same man Strawhat Luffy had not released from his grip since the first rounds of dancing and singing. Despite his worn-out state, however, he glared at them with gray eyes torn between fury and relief.

"Forgetting something, crew?" Trafalgar Law growled, grinning dementedly.

* * *

_A/N: One of my many takes on the Heart Pirates' whereabouts, albeit one from the tamer end of the spectrum of my theories._

_At the time I wrote this, Law had lost his hat and I thought he wouldn't be able to/have bothered to reclaim it. I also assumed that he wouldn't be wearing the same winter clothes to another island, that (in this plotline anyway) he did not have access to his own wardrobe and that he would sail with the Strawhats until he was reunited with his crew. (Again, only for this particular plotline.) Luffy would be more than willing the help his new friend, er, ally if that were the case._

_And... I'm recovering from a head cold turned fever today, so I went with the most appropriate chapter title my groggy head came up with after having to revise this chapter from its base draft. Which is a horrible thing to do when you're not in the best of health. Don't follow my poor example, dear readers._

_Also, with this, my Heart Log queue is officially empty. The next update will probably be a long while from now. [Or at least until I can find more inspiration...]_

_EDIT: [5-28-13] Version 2 finished._


	26. Body Clock

_Character: Trafalgar Law, Heart Pirates_

**XXVI**

It was a full thirty-six hours before Trafalgar Law gave in to the protests of his bodily needs, or so he would be later informed. At the moment, however, the pirate doctor was still fighting on in a soon-to-be-lost war against shaking hands, drooping eyelids and heavy limbs. He had laid down his hand saw and planted both hands at the edge of his operating table in an effort to keep himself steady. An unearthly wailing cried out from his midsection.

Law scowled, trying to ignore it. He had successfully done so for many hours, but the unpleasant pangs of pain that his stomach, back, feet and eyelids signaled to his brain had been more bearable then; they came and went and the Surgeon of Death carried on dissecting the latest batch of cadavers the Heart Pirates had acquired.

This one, however, was more persistent than its predecessors. Coupled with the exhaustion that made his body feel twice as heavy, his hunger was no longer something he could resist. A few minutes into the last wave of hunger pangs, Law shook his head and admitted defeat in a mutter.

He activated his devil fruit ability to encompass the operating tables, most of them laden with cut-up bodies, of his submarine's operating room. With a single hand gesture, he returned the cadavers into the body bags they had been carried in, before closing the short distance between himself and the door. There, he shrugged off his lab coat and hung it on the coat rack, a red and brown speckled contrast to the pristine whiteness of the others already there. No matter; one crewmate or another would pick it up for washing sooner or later: a clean one would await him in his return. With that task now finished, he went straight to the galley.

"Mornin' cap'n," the cook chirped as he entered.

"Good morning," Law echoed, seating himself.

So it was morning then. From the sounds of clattering dishes from the adjacent room, he guessed it must have been some time after breakfast. The crewmate standing at the kitchen door with a plate and a dish rag in his hands only served to confirm the thought. It was evening, roughly past seven, when he retreated into the medical bay.

"It's been twelve hours then? I didn't notice," Law mused out loud.

Shachi, the cook's help that morning it seemed, didn't reply at once, and instead looked at him with a confused expression. But his furrowed brows relaxed soon enough, and after nodding to himself a few times, he answered his captain's query.

"You've been in the lab for a day and a half, sir," he said. "Thirty-six, thirty-seven hours?"

Law's brows shot up. Underestimated by twenty-four hours – he should have considered the possibility: neither his body clock nor his digestive system would have bothered him as much if it had been a shorter period of time. His brain was definitely not working at its best from all the starvation and sleep deprivation, so it would probably do him good to eat up and rest his head.

As the doctor mentally berated himself, the cook and his help laid out his meal before him. Law eyed the food without taking in any details. Despite how logic compelled him to act, he didn't want to sleep the day, or at least the morning, away because then he would surely invert his body clock (not that it was the first time he would do so that month, but it was such a hassle to get it back to normal). Surely there was another way to overcome his present dilemma, a way to keep awake not just through sheer willpower –

The thought trailed off for a study he had read about the body's circadian rhythm was coaxing itself to be remembered. Fragments of the concept floated around in his mind, waiting to be put together. Dropping sheer willpower out of his list of options, the pirate doctor dug around his memories for the article, and bit by bit, a smug smirk stretched across face. Ah, the perks of his occupation; his knowledge always came through in times like these.

Much like how diurnal animals shifted to nocturnal hunting during famine, human beings could induce the same shift by making their bodies believe they were experiencing food scarcity – and that nourishment was more available in a time period usually allotted for sleep. A person could fast for at least sixteen hours, then eat a good meal, and the body would be more active afterwards. Because by the study's reasoning, the 'starving' individual would need the heightened awareness to 'hunt for food'.

And Trafalgar Law had long since breached that sixteen-hour threshold.

"Coffee, captain?"

"Yes, please," Law replied, thinking of all the tests he planned to perform on the many specimens of Grand Line-specific races in his lab for the rest of the day.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was going to be about something else entirely. That is, until I found out about the little bit of info about the body and food clocks while I was researching on the more specific details of the fic. The later part then became illogical and I had to take it out. Hopefully, I could still salvage the original idea for another chapter._

_EDIT: [5-31-13] Version 2 finished._


	27. Tax

_Characters: Trafalgar Law, Unnamed Heart Pirate_

**XXVII**

"Captain? Captain, I need to talk to you."

Law narrowed his eyes, recognizing the clipped voice of his ship's treasurer. He looked up from the letter he had been writing and to the open door of his room just as the towering figure of his crew mate walked into his field of vision. In a few strides, the man stood before his captain, glaring as he waited for recognition. If the tone he had just spoken with was anything to go by, Law surmised that there was financial trouble ahead of him.

"Yes?" he drawled, setting his letter and pen aside.

The other man wasted no time in presenting him three folded sheets of paper, all of which showed off the World Government's impressive letterhead.

"Please explain."

"Shichibukai concerns," the pirate replied, forcing finality in his response with a dismissive wave of a hand. He knew, however, that if those letters were what he thought they were and the man before him had had the audacity to read through them, this confrontation was far from over.

Just as he had predicted, the Heart Pirates' manager of finance set down two of the three letters in front of him and unfolded the third one.

"July 15, 1704, Trafalgar Law, Royal Shichibukai, the surrounding seas of Okaneganai Island, New World," he read with exaggerated emphasis.

Law rolled his eyes and turned his attention to his ceiling. So he had read it.

"Mr. Trafalgar Law; It has long since come to out attention that you and your crew have landed and explored the island of Okaneganai on May 15th of this year. As we are aware you have been informed, the above-mentioned island is not within the World Government's jurisdiction."

The brunet wondered when the last time he had thoroughly cleaned out his room was. He swore there were molds growing at the intersections of his wall and ceiling.

"As per our agreement in your assignment as Shichibukai, part of your responsibilities requires that you relinquish to us ten percent of your discoveries, earnings and similar resources acquired through unlawful means from any locality not within the World Government's spheres of influence."

A quick glance at the rows of glass jars lining the top of his shelf had Law grimacing with disgust. Layers of dust had built up on top of them. Some were so bad that their contents could no longer be identified without the risk of creating an asthma attack-inducing dust cloud.

"However, it has been two months since then and we have neither heard nor received anything from you. We have sent two letters beforehand with the same message. This serves as your third and final warning."

Law sighed and straightened up, giving his subordinate a most bored and unimpressed stare.

"Tortuga. Commander-in-Chief Head Secretary."

"I didn't know you liked reading through other people's letters now," he drawled as he gestured for the third letter to be placed on the table with the pair already there. The sheet was promptly given up. With just the tips of his long fingers, the captain slid the notes across his desk and over the edge. They fell into his trash with a quiet rustle. All the while, Law watched the other man's eyes follow them down to their final destination.

"I found them in the trash, captain," the Heart Pirate answered. His voice had lost its defiance but the clipped and worried tone remained.

Picking up his writing where he had set it aside was all Law could do to keep himself from sighing. He tapped the sheet twice to command his crew mate's attention.

"This," he said, pointer finger still set on the sheet. "Is my letter of response. I will be informing our good head secretary exactly how little we found in Okaneganai. With it will go the loose change he's been so persistent about getting his hands on. So what's the problem?"

His treasurer opened his mouth to reply but it was a few seconds before he managed to utter the next thing that came out of his mouth.

"We're out of funds, sir."

"What?"

"The treasury's been reduced to a bare minimum," he continued, more fearful now than sharp. "We had to restock on fuel, medical, food and maintenance supplies, and gunpowder; the Okaneganai market was more expensive than anticipated."

"And the savings?"

"We spent it for the new sail and uniforms in the island before this-"

"How much do we actually have then?" Law interrupted before his companion could list off any more expenses. In the short span of the exchange, he had opted to rest his head on the palms of two propped up hands.

"Thirty thousand beli, captain."

Pitifully small. Even smaller than the 'loose change' he needed to pay the World Government to overlook his acts of piracy. He could lie about the amount they had looted, of course; the option had not escaped him. However, the mere thought of being untruthful to hide the fact that he had no money to show left a bad taste in his mouth.

Sure enough, such an occurrence was not rare for the Heart Pirates. Maintaining a submarine was costly, a medical one even more so. Money was constantly spent for equipment maintenance and purchasing the newest medical journals from all the seas. By Law's orders, the crew's diet was a heavily regimented one and money was also needed to keep up with it. The cost of the arsenal they had chosen to equip themselves with was no joking matter either.

To that date, having very little money at hand had never been a real issue for them once they had graduated from their rocky first months of piracy. On land, the Heart Pirates had many ways of getting what they needed. When they were short on cash, they stole their simpler needs from unwitting sources; important necessities they acquired from more trusted ones. To accomplish the latter, they either stole items they could sell or exchange or finished jobs, often begrudgingly, for Joker for a fee.

Despite their methods, the North Blue pirate crew seldom took more than they needed from locals, although it was more a tactic for keeping their potential strengths a secret than it was an act of kindness. What they lacked in funds at any point in time, Law had the satisfaction of overcharging his boss for the many missions he sent them. With their earnings, their supplies were constantly replenished and their ship was well maintained. There was hardly any need to have money at hand between islands.

Saving up for their taxes, however, was not a concept that had sunk into their habits since Law's recent assignment as Shichibukai, hence their present dilemma.

"Do we have any valuables we could spare?" the captain asked.

"Not at present, sir."

"Anything we have in excess?"

"Food supplies...and..."

Law glared up at the other man, who swallowed hard and fidgeted under his gaze.

"I suppose sending them food is out of the question."

Law was only minutely gratified that his crew mate was quick-witted enough to recognize the absurdity of his suggestion. "And what?" he asked instead.

"And what, sir?"

"What else do we have in excess?"

A pause. "It's irrelevant, captain."

"Let me be the judge of that."

The treasurer scowled and cast his eyes down and away from the brunet. He hesitated only a moment before speaking.

"Cadavers."

Law didn't reply but sat up straighter, looking his crew mate in the eye with a blank expression. There was only silence between them as a slow smile broke across the Surgeon of Death's face. He put his fingers together and leaned forward, pressing his lips against his digits.

"It's decided then," he said. "We're paying them in hearts."

* * *

_A/N: I know I will probably have my facts corrected if I don't bring this up, so I will say it now. _I am aware that Law gave the World Government one hundred hearts **_before_** he became a Shichibukai to become one. _This was just a plotline that had been demanding to be written for a while now. In fact, it was the original plot for the Chapter 26._

_Just some disclaimers here: I made up Okaneganai Isle (kudos to anyone who gets the pun) and Secretary Tortuga. The date in the letter is just a random date I picked out from somewhere in the second wave of the historical Golden Age of Piracy because I couldn't find any references for writing dates in canon._

_Also, to save everyone the trouble of figuring out how much thirty thousand beli is worth, just consider that one Doskoi Panda shirt costs ten thousand beli. In short, the at-least-nine-men-strong-Heart-Pirates only have enough money to buy three branded shirts for the entirety of their travel from their current island to their next in the story._

_EDIT:[6-13-13] Version 2 finished._


	28. Pop Quiz

_Characters: Jean Bart, Penguin, Trafalgar Law_

**XXVIII**

"Humerus, biceps, triceps … tsk. Um … brachialis … brachialis anticus." Small sounds of self-assurance. "Radius, ulna, pronator teres…"

Jean Bart had been listening to the muttering of strange and complicated words for roughly half an hour now, and he was sure it had been going on for even longer. Even when he arrived, the Heart Pirates second mate, Penguin, was already very much distracted by his own monotonous chanting.

Thirty minutes before, he was sent to the submarines stockroom to do some minor clean up, since his new crewmates seemed intent on keeping him busy. (Or passing on their chores to their newest addition. An initiation of sorts, the former pirate captain saw it.) The man who gave the last set of orders told him he would have company, jokingly adding that that person was to oversee his progress, but judging by how occupied he found the second mate, he doubted that such would have been the case.

Nevertheless, he started on the tasks his 'seniors' asked of him, that is, to arrange the newest batch of supplies in a less space-consuming way, bring up some power tools, and steal for one particularly mischievous crewmate a piece of fruit.

He had been contemplating whether or not earning the friendship of one crewmate was worth sparking the cook's annoyance for, when he realized the senseless mumbling was now much too close for comfort. He looked up from his intent stare on an opened crate of apples, turned to the sound's general direction, and from the curve of a pyramid of barrels, spied the silhouette of the only other person in the room. Jean Bart swallowed his uneasiness and approached him.

The usually covered-up young man had stripped off the top of his uniform and tied it by its sleeves around his waist. His hat was tucked between the fabrics of his sleeveless undershirt and tied-up boiler suit, while the length of hair the headgear usually hid was pulled back, away from his face. In his hands were a clipboard and a pen, but whatever they were originally for had long been pushed to a corner of his mind; he was completely absorbed with the columns of black marks lining the inside of his forearms.

And for that reason, Penguin didn't seem to sense his approach. Jean Bart took the opportunity to get a closer look at the object oh his interest, finding the marks to be words – words that looked like they were from another language. All the while, the young man continued his mechanical mumbling.

"What are you doing?" the giant asked aloud.

"Carpals, metacarpals, phalanges, studying," was his prompt reply, although the last word was the only one said in a volume that could be considered proper for a response. He uttered a few more words (Or a particularly long one; Jean Bart wasn't sure.) before looking up at his crewmate. "Need some help with something?"

"No, just asking."

Penguin nodded absently. The large man noted how the dark rings around his eyes were more prominent than he remembered.

"Shachi said the captain dropped a few questions on him yesterday. I'm probably next."

Somewhere in the course of answering, the speaker's attention had wandered back to his note-riddled arms, only glancing up at Jean Bart every few words; the latter didn't know what to make of it. Whatever these questions were, he hoped he wasn't on his captain's list of people to ask.

"Okay," he replied instead.

His companion smiled gratefully up at him before returning to his studying; the older man took it as a request to be left alone. Back to his box of fruits he went, mulling over the last of the requests asked of him. Already he knew what he intended to do, but he wanted to consider everything before going through with it.

It was just one small piece, he urged after much thought. No one was going to miss it.

Looking over his shoulder one last time, he checked on Penguin. The pirate had walked quite a ways off, still mumbling but now also scribbling on his clipboard. Jean Bart nodded a silent commendation for the man to carry on before deftly scooping out an apple from the open crate. He casually returned its cover and placed another container over it for good measure. The apple soon found itself in his pocket, during which time its owner strolled off to where racks of power tools lined the wall.

Thankfully, the requested equipment were easy to find: each one was labeled accordingly. He didn't have to make wild guesses as to what an impact driver or angle grinder was and end up making many trips before actually getting the right thing; no wonder his crewmate felt no need to explain the task he gave. With a whistle of admiration for his new crew's system, he picked out two tools and heaved them over his shoulders. All that was left to do was to let Penguin know he was on his way.

And he did find him, except it was his captain he saw first.

Trafalgar Law, leaning against the door frame and gazing into the room with a pair of half-lidded eyes, stood atop the short flight of steps to the upper decks. At its foot was Penguin, standing at attention with both arms hidden behind him and gripping his clipboard tightly. From where he stood, Jean Bart could see the board quivering. Sensing something important was going on, he stood his ground and said nothing.

"…Now the oxygenated blood has left the subclavian artery. Where does it go next?" Law had been saying when the newest Heart Pirate chanced on them.

"The axillary artery, sir."

"And into what branches?"

"Superior and lateral thoracic, subscapular and anterior and posterior humeral circumflex," Penguin answered. His voice was confident despite the anxiety his fingers betrayed.

Law scowled and did not continue, seemingly awaiting a follow-up. The second mate fidgeted, but could not supply the answer for his questioner's silent demand.

"Penguin," Law said, eyes glowing with demeaning intensity. "She **_tastes_** like sweet apple pie."

"And the thoraco-acromial. Sorry, captain."

"So what are that one's branches?"

"Cadavers are dead people," the man under fire muttered. Then aloud, he replied. "Clavicular, acromial, deltoid and pectoral branches."

"Good," Law said as his features relaxed. He pushed off against the door frame and regarded his crewmate. "Speaking of apples, how much did we get in the last island?"

"Apples, captain?"

"Apples, Penguin. For preserves, and food, and… whatever else the cook uses it for. Have you or have you not been here taking inventory the whole afternoon?"

"Oh, um…"

The addressed unclasped his hands from behind him and drew his clipboard forward. As he searched through the sheets from the requested information, Jean Bart watched gray eyes look Penguin over. They settled on his ink-stained forearms, scanning the marks, before a humored smirk tugged at the corner of their owner's lips.

"We've acquired four crates, sir. That would be exactly a thousand pieces," Penguin spoke up just as Law looked away.

"Tell the cook then," was his response. "And go help Shachi with his femoral muscles. He's mixing up their layering again."

Penguin nodded, then strode up the stairs and past his captain. The latter watched him walk away, and when he was out of sight, sighed and shook his head.

"Honestly now," Law said as he took hold of the door's handle, "warning each other behind my back." He paused for a moment, mind deep in some amusing thought. "I'll fix that."

He swept his gaze across the room for a final check and found Jean Bart standing in the shadow of a stack of crates.

"Finished up down here, Jean Bart?" he called.

The newest Heart Pirate felt a chill run down his spine as the other man set his eyes on him. They held neither malice nor demand, but under them, he broke out in a cold sweat. The stolen fruit in his pocket suddenly felt very warm against his skin. He could only imagine how it must have been to actually fall under those eyes' scrutiny.

"Not yet, captain," he replied, barely able to resist putting a hand over the item the fabric of his clothes concealed. "I…I left…I'll just go…" He stopped and put his wildly gesturing hand down. For a grown man, he was being ridiculous. "I'll lock up on my way out."

"You do that."

With a nod and a confused look, the captain left. Jean Bart headed back to the food stores. A confrontation with Trafalgar Law was not something he wanted anytime in the near future.

* * *

_A/N: I apologize for having so many jargons in this update. I thought I'd try to write for a longtime headcanon of mine. That is, that Law quizzes his nurses on their basics out of the blue. Keeps them sharp and everything. Thank you CherishCherries for suggesting blood vessels._

_Also, in case anyone's wondering why Law was going on about apple pies, it's a mnemonic for memorizing blood vessels. So were those cadavers Penguin muttered about. I was going to make the questions more situational or practical, but halfway through writing the scenario, I realized I had no idea what I was talking about. Research gave me amusing mnemonics instead._

_Also, this might be the last update in a long while. I'll be revising all twenty-seven chapters before this. Some will see some major changes while others just minor proofreading. I hope you enjoyed this one, dear readers. Till next time._

_EDIT: [6-13-13] Version 2 finished._

_Finished at last. This'll be my last break for revision, hopefully. On to new chapters!_

_+.+_

**Bonus Anatomy Lesson!** AKA The Definition of Terms

[May not be 100% accurate]

Part I

_"Humerus, biceps, triceps … tsk. Um … brachialis … brachialis anticus." Small sounds of self-assurance. "Radius, ulna, pronator teres…"_

To start off, the very first lines are the bones and a few muscles of the arms.

Bones: Upper: humerus; Lower: radius & ulna

Muscles: Upper: biceps & triceps; Elbow Area: brachialis anticus; Lower: pronator teres, etc.

Part II

_"Carpals, metacarpals, phalanges, studying," was his prompt reply, although the last word was the only one said in a volume that could be considered proper for a response._

These are the bones of your hands.

Carpals = wrist

Metacarpals = lower two-thirds of the palm

Phalanges = upper third of the palm and the fingers

Part III

The Q&A jargons were all blood vessels.

Subclavian artery = runs under the collar bone (approximately)  
Axillary artery = runs in the area between the collar bone and the armpit

Now, the axillary artery has six branches that extend out from it. From top to bottom, they are:

Superior thoracic branch  
Thoraco-acromial branch  
Lateral thoracic branch  
Subscapular branch  
Anterior humeral circumflex branch  
Posterior humeral circumflex branch

Their initials share the same initials as "She Tastes Like Sweet Apple Pie."* That is, S-T-L-S-A-P.

*Note: This is just one of the many existing mnemonics. Others include, "Screw The Lawyers, Save A Patient" and "Summertime: The Lakers Schedule Another Parade."

These branches also have sub-branches. In the fic, I used the second one (thoraco-acromial branch) for the quiz. It has four branches. They connect to other blood vessel branches/sub-branches approximately in the following muscle locations:

Clavicular - collar bone  
Acromial - shoulder blade  
Deltoid - upper arm  
Pectoral - chest

Together, their initials form C-A-D-P. "Cadavers Are Dead People." Again, other mnemonics also exist.

Part IV

_"Tell the cook then," was his response. "And go help Shachi with his femoral muscles. He's mixing up their layering again."_

Femoral muscles are the muscles of the thighs. I'm no expert, but there are a hell of a lot of overlapping muscle groups in this limb.

And... that would be everything. I hope this bit of rambling of mine was/will be helpful in any way. ^^;


	29. Beast

_Character(s): Bepo_

**XXIX**

Bepo was not an ordinary animal. In fact, he was more a human than he would ever be a beast. He spoke the language of his humans companions; he could walk on his hind legs for an indefinite period of time (In fact, he was more comfortable on them than on all fours.); he reasoned the way humans did.

The last was that one thing the polar bear knew, from observation and failed attempts at communication, that beasts did not – could not – do. They acted according to their needs in the present, with neither dream nor ambition other than to live for the next meal. Try as he might, Bepo could not remember a time when he was the same as them. If his captain or crewmates knew anything, they didn't tell him. And he didn't ask.

He didn't need to know; he was perfectly content with the way things were. The Heart Pirates - his friends and family - didn't care that he was what he was either. In their little pirate crew, he was given the same duties as the rest, trained in the same form of combat as them, spoken to like any other and respected as an equally intelligent being. He was not a beast to them and Bepo never had to feel like one.

But it was on those moments deep into the heart of a skirmish, when the Heart Pirates' first mate spied in his peripheral vision a crewmate unable to spare an arm or a leg to block an oncoming strike, when an attacker closed in on his defenseless friend while he was close enough to do something about it, that Bepo would leap into the fray, and (if it were the quickest way to get the job done) clamp his powerful jaws over his enemy's soft, warm flesh, drawing blood with each grind of his fangs as bones snapped between them.

* * *

_A/N: I needed a break from all the revisions, so I wrote a small fic for Bepo. Just a few more chapters and I'll be back to my normal update pace. :)_


End file.
